


Moving in Reverse with No Way Out

by cathyelisabeth1



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Affairs, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Chaptered, Cheesy romance, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Depression, Engagement, Epilogue, Eventual Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, I'm Sorry, Insecure Louis, Internal Monologue, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Love, Mild Smut, Minor Character Death, Moving Away, POV Louis, Reunions, Romantic Harry, Sad, Sad Louis, Sad Zayn, Sappy, Sappy Ending, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Smut, Suicide Attempt, Unrequited Love, Very fluffy ending, deep, happy ending I promise, romantic smut, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 23:02:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4853921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathyelisabeth1/pseuds/cathyelisabeth1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The daylight is just breaking through the clouds when Louis first thinks about dying. He woke up far too early and, unable to fall back to sleep, decided to watch the sky. It starts to crack open but there is no paradise waiting behind. There is no silver lining only a new day with nothing new about it.<br/>Would anyone truly miss him?<br/>Most of his friends have probably forgotten he exists by now and the ones that haven’t don’t see him enough to have that much of a bond. His family are used to him not visiting, so they probably wouldn’t notice any difference. They’d be upset, sure, but they’d get over it. It would probably be a weight off everyone’s shoulders.<br/>The way he sees it, there are hooks holding everybody to earth, stopping us from drifting away. They’re things to grab onto when the winds get to strong or our gravity starts to fade. Louis doesn’t feel like he has any. He did, but they seem to have crumbled, become weak. If he grabbed on now they would fly away with him so its best just to leave them be."</p><p> </p><p>Louis is running on autopilot and his thoughts are taking over. There seems like no way out until he bumps into an old friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blistered

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings! This story will include a lot of references to self harm, hatred and suicidal thoughts.
> 
> Good luck. I am sorry.
> 
> UPDATE: I have more of this story planned but it's been nearly a year since I last updated it so I've marked it as finished; it still has closure (to some extent). I might write the rest in the future so let me know if you want me to.

There are 6 empty bottles on the table. Louis should probably feel disgusted with himself but the truth is he doesn’t. He doesn’t cry over how much he wishes he could change or about how much of a failure he has become, at least, not anymore.

It’s been 6 months since he was fired from his job, not that he minded all that much. It was a drag and nobody there was ever happy. He didn’t set out for an office job and it was obvious to everyone so it wasn’t a surprise when he screamed at their boss late one Friday evening and never returned.

He’s on the 6th episode of breaking bad and it’s got to the point where he’s not even paying any mind to the dialogue or the plot, just watching the movements of the characters on the screen and the way the light reflects off the green bottles, through his glass table and on to the floor.

There’re 6 things to do before bed and he has them all mapped out in his head: turn the television off, brush his teeth, get dressed, turn the lights out, get into bed, sleep. It’s the same as every night and nothing ever changes. It’s the same order night in night out. In fact, every day is a repeat now. It’s like he is living the same one over and over again.

His phone reads 6 o’clock when the credits roll and he feels exhausted, like he could doze off any minute. To him, it doesn’t make sense, how you can get so tired purely by doing nothing at all.

He has 6 new messages, 2 from his mum and 4 from friends. They’re all checking up on him, babying him, making sure he’s alright, that he’s still alive, that he’s okay. What they don’t understand is that their efforts are pointless because they make him feel worse. They remind him how long it’s been since he last saw them, since they last spoke. He replies to his mum, ‘I’m okay, still on the lookout for a job. Tell the girls I miss them.” It’s all lies. Louis knows he should miss his sisters but he can’t find it within himself to care as much as he used to. By ‘lookout for jobs’ he means circling the odd one in the weekly paper with a biro but never bothering to ring them up. The first bit might be true though. Louis is okay, but he’s not fine at all.

The house is cold. It’s always cold. He can’t afford to turn the heating on anymore so he just wraps sits on the floor wrapped in blankets. Sitting on the floor makes the world seem bigger though, so Louis doesn’t mind that much. It feels like there is more to explore, like nothing is quite finished. If only he didn’t have to explore it alone, then maybe he’d get up and see what all the fuss is about.

It’s seven minutes later that he makes a move. Heaving himself up and walking towards the TV, turning it off. The room plunges into darkness and Louis’ day is over.

 

~

The daylight is just breaking through the clouds when Louis first thinks about dying. He woke up far too early and, unable to fall back asleep, decided to watch the sky. It starts to crack open but there is no paradise waiting behind. There is no silver lining only a new day with nothing new about it.

Would anyone truly miss him?

Most of his friends have probably forgotten he exists by now and the ones that haven’t don’t see him enough to have that much of a bond. His family are used to him not visiting, so they probably wouldn’t notice any difference. They’d be upset, sure, but they’d get over it. It would probably be a weight off everyone’s shoulders.

The way he sees it, there are hooks holding everybody to earth, stopping us from drifting away. They’re things to grab onto when the winds get to strong or our gravity starts to fade. Louis doesn’t feel like he has any. He did, but they seem to have crumbled, become weak. If he grabbed on now they would fly away with him so its best just to leave them be.

Just as fast as the thought entered his head it leaves again.

He sits there with nothing passing through his mind until he feels hunger wash over him. That’s all that Louis is now, a mess of feelings controlled by his body’s needs.

The fridge is bare, spare a few old vegetables and a tub of butter. There’s not any bread either and Louis knows there’s no cereal because he had the last of it for dinner the night before.

Glancing down at himself, he decides he needs to at least change his trousers before going to the shops. They are all stained from a week’s worth of wear and nobody could see that without being physically repulsed. Louis still has some dignity left.

The shops a short walk from his flat but it seems like miles when you don’t want to be outside. The sunlight burns his eyes, making dots of light appear behind his eyelids like a private firework show. Everything white hurts to look at because of the brightness reflecting off it, there’s even a rainbow appearing as the puddles glisten on the tarmac. Instead of smiling at the colours like he always used too, Louis wonders when the rain fell because he can normally hear it. The small noises of the drops against his window or the drip from the leak in his roof are usually enough to wake him up, if he’s even asleep at all.

He’s awake most nights now, thoughts racing through his mind and his body stuttering awake when his head hits the pillow. Closing his eyes, he always puts the effort, until his brain becomes too much and he has to sit up and think some more.

The shop always used to open at ten so Louis worries a bit when he sees the time is 9:30 but there’s a sign on the door telling customers they’re open 24 hours as of that morning. It’s the luckiest day Louis’ had in a while.

Pushing the door open, the bell chimes and he gets a quick nod from the man behind the desk. It’s only a small shop but it’s enough give Louis what he needs. He makes fast work of it, shoving things into a basket as he passes them until he has enough to last him the week.

The cashier doesn’t make conversation but takes his time to scan Louis’ items through. It makes him impatient even though he has nowhere to be, his foot starts twitching at the toes and his hand starts tapping his side. A distraction comes though when the door chime dings and another man enter.

Louis recognises him straight away; he’s changed a bit. His hair is still curly, only a lot longer, and his face is still the same just with a bit of aging around the jawline. His lips are still plump and pink and his eyes are still bright and filled with constant hope. Louis knows he shouldn’t try to talk to him, that it will just cause a new friendship he has to try and maintain, but his mouth is moving before his mind has fully caught up.

“Harry?” He phrases it as a question despite knowing for certain who this lad is.

Harry’s head turns to face him but there is no realisation behind his eyes.

“Sorry, do I know you?” He looks genuinely worried and Louis comes to the conclusion that the only extreme change about the boy is his voice. It’s a quite a few octaves lower than it was all those years ago and Louis feels it reverberate around his chest and echo through his ribs.

He coughs to make sure his voice doesn’t break; this is the first time he has spoken aloud in two weeks. “Louis.” His hand comes up to gesture to himself and tries to force some kind of smile onto his face but it probably looks pained and unnatural.

At that, Harry’s face lights up and his eyes fill up with emotions Louis can’t understand and suddenly there are arms wrapped around his neck and strands of hair in his mouth.

“You’ve changed so much!” Harry pulls back but leaves his hands on Louis shoulder, he’s definitely grown in the 6 years they’ve been apart but that was always bound to happen. He considers his words and realises that he probably does look a very different to how Harry remembers.

His clothes have darkened significantly, he’s currently wearing some dark joggers and plain black T-shirt, and he has aged. There is also some stubble grazing his face and he has grown up a lot but surely that doesn’t make him unrecognisable. He shakes it off and replies as happily as he can.

“You certainly haven’t.” He knows how long it’s been since they last spoke, to the day but he continues to speak anyway. “How long’s it been then?” His voice sounds so quiet, almost shy.

“About 7 years, I’d say.” 6 years 6 months and 7 days.

“Christ,” Louis fakes surprise. He’s definitely got a grasp on faking emotions over the past half a decade.

“Do you want to grab a coffee or something? Catch up?” Harry has that glint of hope but Louis knows he won’t be able to deal with a situation like that. He’s barely coping now.

He looks down at his feet before replying. “I’ve got a lot to do,” He lets his sentence trail off, leaving Harry to finish off their conversation.

“Oh, okay.” He sounds disappointed and it stabs at Louis’ heart. If his heart wasn’t so empty it might have hurt him more. “Can I get your number, though? Don’t want to leave it another 7 years.” His speech sounds rehearsed, as if this is what he says every time he runs into an old friend, as if Louis is nothing special. He nods anyway, reading out his number as Harry writes it down. By the time they are done his foot is twitching again and his nails have dug so far into his palm he’s surprised he hasn’t drawn blood.

“Nice seeing you again.” He mumbles, handing over some cash to the man behind the desk and walking out of the shop with his head hung low and his heels scuffing the floor. Harry may have replied but if he did Louis was already half way home.

 

~

After getting a bit of food inside him, he decides the next part of his day should be a shower.

His bathroom has a huge mirror against the far wall and walking in makes him his jaw drop low. He hasn’t taken the time to look in so long and now that he has he realises it’s no surprise that even Harry couldn’t recognise him.

There are bags under his eyes that are so dark they age him by at least a decade and his hair is such a mess Harry probably thought he was homeless, but he makes no effort to change it. He doesn’t shave or brush his hair. He just jumps in the shower and continues as normal.

There’s no reason to change now, nothing is going to change around him so he feels no need to stand out from the dirt and dust that has gathered.

The water is warm and it feels nice, calming even. Louis has always loved water, ever since he was a kid. He loves the rain, baths, showers, swimming. Everything that involves water; it makes him feel nice.

He turns the temperature up as far as it will go and waits for the burn. There is no reason for doing it but Louis basks in the pain, sensing the steam rise up around him as he closes his eyes. He lets the feeling wash over him and stands there until the pain is overwhelming and he has to turn it to cold. Even then there is an ache on his back and if Louis uses the mirror again later to admire the blisters the heat created no one has to know but him.


	2. Loving and Liking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two.
> 
> I'm really enjoying writing this but I keep making myself sad.

Harry. Nothing else is entering Louis’ mind. Everything is just Harry, Harry and his long curly hair and his Ivy eyes and transfixing smile. There’s no way out, Louis knows this. There is no way out of his orbit once you’ve been dragged in. He learnt this 7 years ago when he left the first time.

He wished they had stayed but there was no changing his mother’s mind. It was best for the girls, for her and that’s all that mattered to Louis. At least, that’s what he tells himself.

Best friends for life, yeah right. That was never going to last.

It’s yet another night of tossing and turning but this time Louis gives up. Puling himself out from beneath the covers, he makes his way to the window.

This has been a ritual ever since Louis moved here. If everything got too much, which was growing into most nights now, he would sit on the ledge. Sit on the ledge with is feet hanging down over the pavement and a cigarette hanging from his mouth.

He has one of his baggy jumpers lying on the chair by his wardrobe so he pulls it on and swings open the glass. His flat is a bit old but it’s new to him. Well, relatively. He has a full box of cigarettes waiting on the side for moments like this so he grabs them as well before heaving himself out and onto the ledge.

Everything is put in perspective from up there. He can see the differences in the size of the building and which ones protrude above the rest across the skyline. Sure, Manchester’s skyline isn’t as interesting or famous as that of London or New York but, to Louis, it’s still beautiful. He can see the office buildings a few streets over with some of the lights still on, showing that there are still people willing to work, still in need to put the hours in no matter what the time of day. There’s a night club further down from his block and Louis can just about make out the rumble of music and chatter of late night partiers stumbling down the path.

He feels as if he can see everyone. Everyone in the city doing what they do at 3am, whether that be work, party, sleep or hang out of a top floor window.

Looking straight down, he thinks back to a time when he would never have the confidence to do this, always too afraid of heights, too afraid of falling. That fear disappeared over the years when Louis discovered how irrational it was and that the fear didn’t stem from being scared he would fall but from worrying that he would suddenly decide to jump.

He used to be afraid of lots of things when he was younger. He was confident in himself but wouldn’t like to stray too far from what he already knew, was never overly curious. He loved to drink, still does, but now it is just the alcohol that he turns to and not a stream of happy people or the buzz from a party.

It would be very easy to slide of the ledge, Louis lets his mind wander. It would be easy to push himself forward and fall but he doesn’t. He doesn’t see the point in even that.

6 years, 6 months. How has it been that long? Louis thought he was over it, but he definitely isn’t. He had to leave everything behind and he still counts the days as they go by. It can’t have been that long, he insists. It can’t have been that long since he saw Harry last, not that it would of affected the younger lad all that much. He didn’t even recognise Louis in the store earlier today. Yesterday, Louis corrects himself. He hadn’t noticed it was Louis and that hurts because Louis hasn’t changed, he knows he hasn’t, but Harry still looked at him blankly and that was a stab to his heart. It goes to show how little of an impact Louis has on people’s lives. He’s not even memorable to those he was the closest to. Does anyone from back in Doncaster remember him at all? He’s only moved twice since then, once up north to a town near Newcastle and then back to Yorkshire a few years ago when he finally moved out.

Maybe the flat isn’t that new to him at all.

He waits there for what feels like seconds but the glow of the sun begs to differ. The light moves in fast forward to Louis as he waits some more. He doesn’t feel hungry, he doesn’t feel tired, he doesn’t feel anything. So he waits.

The buzz of his phone draws him back but not enough to move just yet. The sun has almost travelled the whole length of the sky showing that the day is almost over. Another buzz comes but lasts longer. His phone is ringing.

He lets it ring out but it rings again and again until Louis has no choice but to heave himself back into the bedroom and over to the phone.

“Hello?” He tries, not having checked the caller ID, but his voice comes out raspy and sore.

“Dude, where are you? You didn’t turn up. Niall and Lola went home.” It’s Zayn.

“What?” Is all Louis can manage, attempting to make sense of Zayn’s words. He used to understand him immediately sometimes without words at all but now Louis can’t get a grasp on the meaning behind the most simple of sentences without a few seconds to let it sink in.

“Lad’s night out. We sorted it out last week, remember? You promised you would turn up.” Louis winces as he remembers the last time he and Zayn spoke on the phone. Louis had tried every excuse in the book but there are only so many nights he can pretend to be busy. He had promised. Zayn had made him promise to turn up because it had ‘been too long’ and they ‘all miss you, bro’. What’s worse though is the tone of Zayn’s voice. He’s not angry, not even disappointed, just sad. Why isn’t he angry? He should be yelling down the line, screaming at Louis for letting them down again.

“Erm.” He scrambles for an excuse he thinks is suitable but comes up short. Zayn deserves more than some pathetic, last minute lie.

“I’m on my way to yours.” Zayn sounds almost sympathetic.

“No.” That’s not how it works. Zayn shouldn’t be feeling sorry for him. Louis is the one in the wrong; he’s the one that fucked up.

“Yes.” Is all that comes from the other end before a long beep shows Zayn has hung up.

It takes ten minutes before the front door opens. Louis gave Zayn a key the day he moved in, that’s how it’s always been with them. No secrets.

“Lou?” He somehow makes his shout sound gentle, trying to locate the older lad. It doesn’t take long to find him in the small flat so only a few moments later the door to the bedroom is being pushed open in front of him and Zayn enters, taking in his surroundings.

Louis is perched tentatively on the edge of his bed and still has nothing on but boxers and a jumper, his bare feet not visible from where they are tucked under the rug on the floor. Only specks of carpet are visible due to the amount of clothes and food packaging splayed out around the room. The wardrobe doors are swung open and the mountains of clothes are chaotically cascading out. The draws he has pushed against the back wall are all open but mostly empty, the previous contents have all been worn and left around the flat. There’re four empty boxes of cigarettes on the side table and one waiting on the window sill from earlier, teetering on the edge of falling inwards because of the strong breeze from the open glass.

“Oh Louis.” Zayn’s eyebrows are furrowed together as he walks forward and joins Louis on the bed. “Have you been out at all today?” Louis shrugs slightly, not trusting his voice. Whenever anything like this happens it take everything inside him not to let his anger bubble out. He gets angry because everyone treats him as a baby and because they always look so sad and because they spend so much time on him but mostly, he’s angry at himself because he knows he doesn’t deserve it.

“Have you eaten?” Louis shrugs again, looking straight ahead at the light shining from the corridor. “Do you want to?” Zayn asks and this is why Louis likes having Zayn around more than anyone. He gets that Louis hates the attention. He shakes his head, no. “Do you want me to leave?” He asks, Louis shakes his head again and leans on Zayn’s shoulder. Zayn never makes him do anything he doesn’t want to, he’s never spilled any of Louis’ secrets and never told anyone that Louis’ isn’t coping very well with anything at the moment, and Louis is so grateful. 

Zayn starts to stroke his hair and stays.

He stays until Louis is drifting off to sleep and leaves the way he came in, first dipping Louis back into bed and pulling the duvet over his curled up form. The last thing Louis sees is Zayn’s small frown and it makes him think that, maybe, the reason Zayn doesn’t tell anyone Louis’ secrets is because he has a few of his own.

The worst thing is knowing that part of Zayn’s current sadness is Louis’ fault. That he would be happy now if Louis had turned up to be with them, maybe be a bit of a buffer and distract Zayn from makes him upset, from what makes him cry at night. Instead, Louis is here, by himself, letting tears fall into his pillow like the wimp he is because no matter what Louis does he will never make anything better. He’s a burden on everyone by sticking around.

And nothing ever changes.

 

~

Louis almost told Harry, a week before he left he almost did it.

The word ‘almost’ burns in his thoughts. It’s the worst word that can ever be used. It is the pinnacle of failure. Something was nearly in your grasp but not close enough to reach, or maybe you were not strong enough to get there. Almost, but not quite.

 It wouldn’t have made a difference though because what’s spilling all his secrets going to achieve if he tells them and then disappears. It would have only made things worse, knowing a definite answer. Having things hang in the air has always been something Louis enjoys. He doesn’t like to label things or know the answer to a long awaited question. Especially if it would only break his heart.

There’s something beautiful about an emotion being undefinable, or a word or anything. The fact that it is possible for something to be beyond the realm of human understanding makes him think that that humanity is not the peak of the universe. That there is still further to go.

But knowing that they are never going to get there reveals what’s under the mask. Sure, there is more to explore but that doesn’t mean they’re going to explore it.

Maybe everyone around him was right, maybe 17 was too young to fall in love, but If it wasn’t love then Louis doesn’t know what it was. It was undefinable.

Harry told Louis he loved him all the time but it was always followed by ‘mate’ or ‘dude’ or something equally as platonic. Harry also said he loved television and mac and cheese and staying up late. He said he liked things too and in the end ‘like’ grew to mean more than ‘love’ as it does in every teenager. Harry liked a girl. He loved Louis, sure, but he started liking a girl.

Madison, she was pretty and nice and they were all friends anyway. She was two years younger than Louis, the same age as Harry and Louis struggled to find reasons to dislike her. He still hated her and nothing’s changed.

Even thinking back to her now he hates her. Hates that she was one of the many things that stood in his way. Harry and her never got together and Harry’s crush faded quickly but she was the reason for the almost.

Harry liked girls, not boys. Not Louis.

It was only fair that Louis didn’t ruin what they did have; sure they never spoke after he moved but that was for more reasons than that. Louis didn’t want anything to do with that town anymore. Didn’t want any connections, especially ones that made his heart ache.

That was nearly 7 years ago, Louis should be over it by now, he should be over a lot of things. Heartbreak is second only to grieving and Louis experienced both.

He’s pathetic. He should have manned up and looked after them all. Not let things spiral out of control. It was his fault what happened and it was his fault that everything went wrong after that. Luckily things for everyone else are better now.

At least things change for them.

Louis hasn’t spoken to anyone in a week and it makes him feel like a shit friend, like a shit son. He hasn’t spoken to his mother for nearly 4 months now. He built up the courage to ring once but Lottie answered and said Mum was out without her phone. Louis never managed to ring again so they’ve only texted since.

So, you can see why Louis would be surprised when his phone buzzes by his foot to wake him up. He must have fallen asleep with it in his hand and he has always been a restless sleeper. He used to unconsciously wriggle so much when he was younger that he would wake up shivering without his duvet or on the floor in a heap.

He whines softly. That was the first time he had slept since Zayn had come over. Speaking of Zayn, he should probably text him soon. Tomorrow, Louis thinks, as always, whilst fishing around his feet for his phone. He doesn’t want to check the text he just wants to sleep without interruption.

Finally grabbing it, he goes to put it on his bedside table but another text flashes up on the screen.

**It’s Harry, by the way.**

Louis freezes and brings the phone up to his chest. There is no way he can ignore Harry, he’s always had that problem. Since they first met and Louis was captivated by the emeralds that little boy had instead of eyes. He unlocks the screen and opens the previous message.

**Hi, long time no speak :)**

He didn’t expect a message off Harry at all. Forgot he’d even given him his number. It was probably his brain’s way of not letting him get his hopes up. He conditioned himself to lose optimism at a young age.

Hope can make the impossible seem possible, but is that always a good thing?

**Hey**

His fingers move before his mind can tell him everything that will go wrong. Once his thoughts have caught up he notices himself start to shake.

**How’re you doing?**

The paranoia is overwhelming and despite Louis knowing how irrational he is being he wonders if Harry knows something’s wrong. He wonders if he has spoken to Zayn and if Zayn has broken his trust and told Harry everything. Now Harry feels sympathetic and thinks he has to text Louis so he doesn’t feel guilty.

**Good why?**

Harry will probably lie his way out of it. Deny everything, like Louis always used to. He used to deny that anything was wrong and pretend like nothing had happened and nothing had changed. He cheered his family up, looked after them when they needed it the most. He stayed happy by telling himself there as nothing to be sad about. The only problem was there was all the sad things built up and hit him like a tidal wave. Louis still feels like he’s drowning.

**Just asking. I can’t believe we just bumped into each other after all this time. You didn’t say anything about moving back to Yorkshire!**

He probably should of and he did think about it, typing his message out on Harry’s Facebook and hovering over send before holding down backspace and shutting down the computer. He knows he shouldn’t have cut Harry off but Harry bringing it up makes him defensive.

**Should I have?**

Just typing the question makes him feel a mixture of anger and guilt. How dare Harry put the blame completely on him. It only takes a moment for his emotions to slide though and the void to return.

**Erm, well no. I just would have got in contact sooner!**

Would he though? Harry is pretending he cares, just like everyone else does, pretending they care about Louis when in fact they wouldn’t even notice if he was gone. Hell, Harry didn’t even recognise him.

**Sorry I’m just a bit tired is all**

Louis is good at excuses. Practice makes perfect, as they say.

**Okay. Well me and my friend Liam were gonna go out to the centre today. Do you want to come? Have a long awaited catch up!**

The thought of meeting anyone new sends a shiver up Louis’ spine. Harry already feels new enough. Even the thought of seeing Harry again, talking to him, having him ask questions makes his breathing pick up. He lets it even out with long slow breaths before typing out a reply.

**I don’t feel so good tbh  
Maybe another time**

He probably shouldn’t have even replied. Let Harry figure out sooner rather than later how useless Louis is and how you shouldn’t let yourself get weighed down by his burden.

**Oh dear :/ You alright?**

The concern almost seems genuine but Louis knows better.

**I’ll be fine**

He knows how much he and Harry used to text but things are different now. They are both different now.

**Okayy, well I could always pop by yours later if you want. What’s your address?**

Louis is definitely panicking now.

**You really don’t have to do that  
I’m not feeling up to seeing anyone today**

Will Harry not get the hint? Louis doesn’t want him over. He doesn’t want to see him. He doesn’t want to see anyone.

**Aww, come on Lou, it’s only me. It’s been so long!**

Memories flash through Louis’ head. The summer holiday’s they spent on the beach in Scarborough, The bus rides on long school trips. Staying up until the early hours of the morning on the phone or on skype. They are the good ones. There are bad ones too, ones that involve tears and holes in walls and broken knuckles. In order to remember the good things the bad memories have to fall through too.

The nickname. The nickname that always had butterflies erupting in Louis’ stomach. The name that calmed him down. The name that made him feel safe. The name that Louis could never say no to. Maybe some things haven’t changed.

**I guess you could come for a bit**

He leaves it vague.

Louis only wishes he would feel something but no emotion comes to him. He can’t force himself to feel anything anymore. He’s just numb unless his body tells him otherwise.

**Yay! I’ll see you at around 5?**

Louis takes a moment to think about the time. Its 6 hours away but that shouldn’t seem like much. He has the same routine to follow as every other day.  Sleep starts to fall over him again and he struggles to keep his eyes open, typing his reply.

**Sure**

His brain can’t handle saying much more.

**Okay, see you! X**

There’s a kiss. A single kiss that doesn’t mean anything and means everything all at once.

Louis doesn’t reply. He rolls over and drifts back into a deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what you think! 
> 
> Also leave Kudos to make me smile ;)


	3. Upside Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit longer than the last two chapters about 5,500 words.

Louis startles awake when he hears loud knocks on his door. It takes him all of 5 seconds to panic. Harry’s here. Harry is here and Louis fell asleep.

He jumps to his feet, getting a rush of blood to his head. He has to pause for a moment so he doesn’t fall back to his bed. Louis has always had low blood pressure and it’s not good that he gets these dizzy spells whenever he stands up.

He looks down at himself to and grimaces slightly. He’s wearing a pair of old red pyjama bottoms that probably haven’t been washed in over two weeks judging by the stains littered across the front of them. He had decided to pair it with a red and white t-shirt that honestly doesn’t match and Louis wonders how he hadn’t noticed how ridiculous he looked when he first put them on. To be completely honest he can’t quite pinpoint the exact day he put these clothes on. He spots his black baggy t-shirt in the corner and speedily changes his top, trying his best to brush out the creases.

“I’m coming!” He shouts because as easy as it would be to pretend he’s not up or not in, he can picture the look of disappointment that would fall on Harry’s face. 

The house is a bit of a mess but it has been worse. Niall threw out all of his rotten food about a month ago so there’s not a nasty smell anymore. There are, however, a collection of beer bottles in the living room that he shoves under the sofa. The bin is over flowing, or else he would of put them in there.

He checks his breath, out of habit, and swings open the door.

Harry looks gorgeous, even more so than he did the other day, as if he made an effort for his day out with Liam, whoever that is. Maybe it’s his boyfriend. He’s dressed in a loose fitting, red shirt that looks like more of a ladies blouse due to the sheer fabric and delicate pattern, along with some black skinny jeans that show off his endless legs and some black boots to match. Louis can’t help but feel a bit fuzzy when he sees Harry’s hair is pulled into a bun. 

“Hey!” Harry says with a jolly tone, pulling Louis in for a one armed hug. It’s now that Louis realises Harry has a Starbucks tray with two drinks balanced in his other hand. Whilst still gripping onto Louis, who is trying his best to hug him back but doesn’t know where to put his arms, he toes off his boots and kicks them to the side against the wall. “You look terrible. Is it the flu?”

Louis blinks at him before he remembers telling Harry he was ill. He really needs to get on top of his lies if there’s a new person to play pretend with. Not that Harry is going to stick around anyway. The funny thing is, Louis isn’t ill but Harry certainly seems to think he looks it based on the frown lines that have appeared between his eyebrows. Louis blames his lack of sleep; he just woke up after all.

“I brought you a tea.” Harry continues without letting Louis answer. “Two sugars and milk for days.” That’s exactly the way Louis always used to take his tea when he was younger, loving the sweetness it left in his mouth. Now, however, that much sugar is far too sickly to have in one go. He much prefers the bitter after taste of milk-less coffee.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Louis says, taking the drinks from Harry’s outstretched hand and placing it on the side table. He suddenly feels really awkward not knowing what to say. “Sorry about the mess.” Is what comes out.

At the comment, Harry looks past Louis into the open plan living space, his eyes quickly scanning every surface as if he doesn’t want to miss a thing.

“Don’t worry about it.” Louis nods in reply, running his fingers through the top of his hair, getting his hand stuck on a knot, he battles with it for a moment before giving in and letting his hand fall back to his side.  “Come here.” Harry says, gesturing towards himself at about the level of Louis’ head. Louis doesn’t move so Harry takes a step closer making Louis freeze.

He can’t help but let his muscles relax when Harry’s hands fall to his scalp, massaging through his hair. “Your hair’s grown.” Harry mutters in almost a whisper. As if it is a secret that shouldn’t be spoken aloud.

“So’s yours.” Louis mumbles, letting his eyes fall closed.

“Yeah, but you always hated your hair long.” Harry smiles down at him and runs his fingers through again, this time encountering the knot. His eyebrows furrow together in concentration as he tries to gently pull the strands of hair free. “Do you have a hair brush?” Louis glances up through his eyelashes and shakes his head, no.

“I have a comb somewhere in the bathroom though.” As soon as the words leave his mouth Harry is gone, strolling past him and into the bathroom.

“I need a pee anyway.” Louis nods even though Harry can no longer see him walks himself to the sofas, taking the drinks with him.

Noticing a stray bottle sticking out from under the seat, he uses his heal to push it back into t’s hiding spot. There would be nothing worse than having Harry see how much he drinks. He takes the time that Harry is on the toilet to really take in his current surroundings. There’s a desk pushed up against the window. He moved it there so he could look out across the city whilst working last year and never got round to moving it back despite it half blocking the only path to the seats. Paper is still piled high on the corner of it that is left over from his job. The sheets always blow away when the door is opened but Louis has got into the habit of putting them back.

There are a few empty glasses and plates stacked on the edge of the coffee table from when Louis lacked the motivation to take them all the way to the kitchen but other than that the room isn’t too messy. He hasn’t actually cleaned in a while though so he’s probably sitting in his own filth. The sofa may of changed colour in the last few months down to his constant smoking.

The thought of smoking makes him crave another so he reaches over to the table to grab a box, raising one to his lips and lighting it to take a nice long drag.

“You smoke?” Louis startles at Harry’s return, whipping his head around to face him.

“Erm, yeah.” Louis was always so opposed to cigarettes as a teenager, as well as heavy drinking and all things drug related, always staying safe when he was at a party with his mates. He takes in Harry’s shocked expression so quickly adds, “You don’t mind do you?”

“N-no.” Harry stutters, cautiously taking a seat next to Louis on the sofa. Louis notes the distance Harry has put between them. “Just surprised, you know.”

“Yeah, well.”  Louis leans back into the cushions, taking another drag and letting the smoke out through his mouth.

“I found the comb.” Harry blurts out and sure enough he is holding Louis’ small black comb in his hand.

Louis nods slowly, not really certain of what move to make next. It’s been a while since his day was different.

“Sit on the floor.” Harry says, shuffling closer to Louis and nudging him gently onto the ground. Louis complies but somehow hits the wood with a thud.

“You really don’t have to do this for me. I am capable.” Louis says even though he didn’t need to. He just wants to make sure Harry knows he can look after himself. He doesn’t want another person’s sympathy.

“It’s easy though. I can see where the knot is.” As he speaks, Harry starts the push the comb through Louis hair. It’s relaxing and calming and the softest thing Louis has felt in a long while, despite the slight tug that happens when Harry reaches his tangled hairs. When was the last time you brushed your hair Louis? Christ this knot is big.” He places his other hand on the front of Louis scalp, near his forehead to hold him in place and release some of the pulling from the comb.

“I’m sick.” Louis whispers. It’s the weakest lie he’s even muttered and wasn’t even an answer to Harry’s question but Harry accepts it none the less.

There’s a definite difference between accepting a lie and believing it. Sometimes when someone lies you know that they aren’t telling the truth but pointing it out would cause too much hurt or drama so it’s best just to leave it be and accept the lie for what it is and what it means.

As the knot loosens the sensation gets softer and lighter until the Louis becomes accustomed to the feeling and the tingling down his spine starts to fade. Even after the comb can run smoothly through his hair Harry continues, gently brushing through the strands until Louis takes the last drag he can get out of his cigarette.

Harry places the comb on the coffee table and slides back across the sofa to back room for Louis, though he isn’t as far away as he was to begin with. There’s a small frown on his face as he watches Louis stub out his cigarette in the dish on the floor.

“So, what are you doing at the moment?” Harry has his knees drawn together and his wrists crossed in his lap. His long fingers splayed elegantly across his knees. “Like, work wise?” Louis hasn’t had anyone ask him that in a while and in all honesty wasn’t prepared.

“Err, I’m between jobs.” Louis tries, but can’t help hitch in his voice. “I was working admin for some business company in the centre but,” I got fired, “They had to make some job cuts.” It’s a pathetic attempt at bypassing the truth but Harry nods thoughtfully.

“You always said you’d never work in an office.” Harry says in the same tone as when he was talking about smoking. It’s almost as if he wants to say more but is afraid, like he’s trying to tread carefully.  “Why the change of heart?”

“Works, work.” He doesn’t mention the fact that he hasn’t been working for half a year or how much he hated his time spent behind the desk, at the office or at home. The work load always seeming like a weight on his shoulders and the lack of motivation he would have to ever get it done. “What about you?” His tries to make his tone seem interested but it comes out monotone and tired.

“Oh, erm.” Harry pauses and Louis wonders if he’s about to lie too. “I work in marketing, for a food chain.” It sounds very vague so Louis questions further.

“Would I know the brand?” He wants to celebrate for the slight raise in pitch he managed.

“Maybe?” Harry seems really self-conscious all of a sudden, rubbing his hands together and twiddling with his rings. He’s wearing 3 altogether, on the middle and index finger of his left hand and one on the middle finger of his right. “Count on us.” Louis knows them, he’s had them before, they’re these healthy, balanced microwave dishes that the sell at Marks & Spencer’s. He practically lived off them for a month after he first left his job.

“Oh, yeah.” He doesn’t want to seem too enthusiastic but feels that maybe he’s not making much of an effort. Harry nods along with him and pushes his sleeves up to his elbows, revealing even more of his tattoos. Louis takes the moment to study them. His entire left arm is littered in what appear to be completely random tattoos but must all mean something personal. His arm twitches with the need to reach out and trace them all, ask what they mean, but he restrains himself and lets his eyes wander further. From the angle Harry is sitting, slightly leaned forward, Louis can see his chest where the collar of his shirt has dipped down. There are to birds just below his collar bone and some smaller tattoos where his shoulders start. Louis can also make out the top of a large tattoo on Harry’s stomach but not enough if it to figure out what it is.

Harry must notice him looking because he speaks up. “You said you didn’t want tattoos either.” It’s sounds sad and quiet, as if he is hurt by Louis getting them. It’s not Louis’ fault that he said that, at the time he thought he was telling the truth.  The truth is, Louis didn’t really want them ever. Most of them were reckless decisions in the drunken hours of the mornings when he was in Uni. Him and Zayn and a few other mates always used to flock to the tattoo parlour down the street whenever they had a few drinks in their systems. There are a couple that hold deeper meanings, from when he was feeling especially sappy in whatever stage of tipsy he was in that night, but most were unnecessary and random, like the skateboard or Pacman.

He regrets all of them though, even the ones that have something behind them.

Before Louis has a chance to reply, his phone starts ringing. He goes to grab it from his pocket but there is nothing there. He pats his other pocket too, finding the same thing. “Shit.” He mutters, standing up and flipping over a few cushions. He can hear it well but can’t see it anywhere. As it reaches the 4th ring Harry starts helping too, searching down the back of the sofa.

Louis has his hand in the cracks between the sofa cushions when the ringing stops.

“Hello, Louis’ phone, Harry speaking.” He turns to find Harry stood next to the chai with Louis’ mobile pressed to his ear. “Yes Hello.” Louis tries to figure out who’s on the other end but the voice is too quiet. “I’m an old friend.” It’s probably Zayn needing a chat. He hopes it isn’t though because when Zayn needs a ‘chat’ he doesn’t want to speak to anyone but Louis. “Well, he said he didn’t feel well but I can probably drag him out the house for a bit.” Louis’ eyebrows shoot up, he starts frantically shaking his head and launches himself at Harry to try and grab the phone. Harry easily dodges him.

“Please, I don’t want to go out.” He says from where he landed on the floor.

“He just needs to get ready, then he’ll meet you there. Just down the road you said?” Louis pulls himself up and brushes the dust from his legs. “Really? I would love to tag along. I’ll see you in a bit then.”  Harry’s smile widens as he starts to pull the phone away from his ear,  calling out a final, “You too, Niall.”

He hangs up and hands the phone back to Louis, who has a very serious expression on his face.

“That was Niall.” Harry says. “We are meeting him at the pub a few doors down in half an hour.”  Niall hasn’t rang him in almost 2 weeks and they haven’t actually seen each other in closer to 4. Louis can’t help but smile though when he talks to Niall. He’s the only one who doesn’t change the way he is around Louis; he doesn’t treat him with caution. They met about 3 years ago in Louis’ last year of Uni when Zayn had introduced them at a party. Louis had been excited to finally meet the friend Zayn had always gone on about.

Zayn he’d known for nearly 6 years. They were in the same accommodation for the first year of Uni and hit it off immediately but that was probably because they both understood how it felt to be sad. Though, at this point neither knew what the cause for the others upset was. Louis didn’t even find out for another 3 years.

Harry looked rather smug with himself and Louis wanted to scream. What right did he have that he could come over to Louis’ flat practically uninvited and then drag Louis out of his comfort to meet with friends Harry didn’t even know. What sort of person does that? Comes back into his life with an explosion of torture.

“He seems nice, said it had been ages since you went out.” Harry’s voice drops back to a careful tone. What is it about Louis that makes everyone sound like that around him? He hasn’t changed but yet everyone is treating him differently. Even his sisters on the phone.

He rang his mum two days ago. Lottie picked up again with the same excuse as last time but speaking in a hushed voice, as if she didn’t want to be heard.  Louis had thought it strange but everyone acts strangely around him so he shrugged it off and hung up.

“He also seemed quite surprised that you were with anyone.” Harry adds, conversationally but Louis knows the meaning behind it. So what if Louis hasn’t got many friends or prefers to be alone? There is nothing wrong with that. “Anyway,” Harry claps his hands together, “You need to get dressed.”

Louis decides to keep the black top he is wearing but changes into some black jeans. He finds an old pair of red converses in the bottom of his wardrobe that he hasn’t worn in ages and pulls them on. There is also a red Adidas jacket that he has never worn hanging up on the back of his door. It’s one of the few items of clothing that hasn’t fallen or been thrown to the floor so he pulls that on as well. He has no idea what the temperature is outside but judging by what Harry was wearing it can’t be that cold.

Walking out into the living room to grab Harry he has a single question on his mind. “Wear was my phone then?” Harry stands from where he is resting on the back of the couch and walks towards the door with Louis in toe.

“We never did finish those drinks I brought.” Harry notes, avoiding the question as he pulls the door open and nods toward the full cups of tea on the coffee table. “And, It was under the sofa.” He says before rushing out the door. Louis takes a moment to think why that was such a big deal as he grabs his phone from where Harry left it. Then he remembers, he pushed all of the bottles under there for the soul purpose of hiding them from Harry.

“Oh.” He says, jogging slightly to catch up with Harry in the corridor. His legs are so long that even when Louis is stood by his side again it takes a bit more energy to keep up.

“Yeah.” Harry pushes the button to open the lift and climbs inside, ending their conversation. Louis could not be more grateful. The rest of the journey is silent but Louis notices the glances Harry steals every few metres, he notices the frown etched on his face.

Walking down the street, Louis’ legs feel heavy. That’s how life is for him now, everything feels heavy and weighted and pointless, not worth the effort. Our bones hold what our hearts can’t.

All the hope has drained out of him, all the hope of a better future has drifted away because what’s the point of wishing for something if you know that it’s impossible. If you know that no matter how tight you squeeze your eyes shut, no matter how bright the star you pick, no matter how loud you shout it, wishes don’t come true then why put the effort into having them?

The Old Stag is a classic pub, with a seating for people ordering food and a long bar that stretches along the back wall. It’s lighting is pretty dingy so everything is shadowy and dull, mostly dark wood and deep red stools. There’s two bartenders working, chatting with customers as they pull drinks and rush around to grab the bottles from the fridge; it’s quite packed tonight with groups of friends scattered around at tables or standing. Some older men are sat watching the football on the small television screen behind the bar. Louis has no idea who is playing. He spots Zayn with his permanent pout sitting in a booth in the far corner, it doesn’t take much longer for Louis to hear Niall’s voice booming around the entire pub and the responding feminine giggle from the same direction.

With a quick gesture at Harry to follow him he walks over to the table, turning the corner to see all three of them with half full drinks and an unfinished conversation.

Niall’s roots have grown through since they last saw each other so his hair is mostly brown now with blond tips styled up in his normal fashion. He’s wearing a tight fitting button up with dark blue jeans and the way he is sitting, leaning back with his foot resting on his knee shows he is wearing his signature brown ankle boots. Niall has this way of always looking like he belongs, no matter where that may be, he appears to fit in and look comfortable.

Under his arm is Lola, she fit’s there almost perfectly due to her small frame. Louis always thought she was too skinny but she eats almost as much as Niall does so it can’t be an issue. Her long brown hair is pulled back into a bobble with the waves falling across her left shoulder. She’s sat with her legs bent out the side of the table so she can lean further into Niall’s side which reveals her wintery boots and lighter jeans. Her top is relatively plain but flatters her none the less. Objectively, she is beautiful, but Louis has his reasons to be bitter.

Then there’s Zayn. He has his leather jacket still on and zipped up despite the temperature being quite warm inside but he’s always been one to get chilly. Louis can’t see his legs but he’s probably wearing some black jeans and boots; he’s always dressed in dark clothes. His face is freshly shaved and his hair is immaculate as if he is dressed to impress. The truth: he probably is.

Louis coughs to make his presence known and the three look up, smiling.

“Louis!” Niall shouts, shoving Lola out the way, despite her obvious protests to move, and standing to pull Louis into a hug. “You actually came!” He doesn’t know how to respond so he returns the hug silently.

“Hey.” Lola offers with a friendly smile. Despite her and Niall’s 4 year long relationship Louis doesn’t know her all that well. She and Niall are so often in their own little world. It’s sickly sweet. Louis returns the gesture with a smile and a nod before turning to Zayn. All he gets is a tight lipped nod.

“You alright, babe?” Louis asks carefully and quietly, placing a hand on Zayn’s shoulder. He receives a nod and a wider smile and it’s all he could hope for in a situation like this. He feels a wave of guilt crash over him for not saving him from this hell every time. Louis really is more trouble than he’s worth.

A low cough comes from behind him, startling him back to the world. Harry is standing there awkwardly with his feet turned inwards and his hands held behind his back.

“Erm,” Louis starts awkwardly, gesturing an arm wildly back at Harry. “This is Harry he’s an old friend of mine from back in Doncaster.” The table goes silent, perhaps with shock. Louis has never mentions Harry to them, at least not by name. A moment of quiet passes before Niall turns to Harry with a huge grin.

“Hey mate!” Niall pulls the taller lad into a hug which results in a rather shocked reaction from Harry before he relieves it with a small laugh and returns the hug.

“Nice to meet you.” Lola says holding out her hand for Harry to shake. She currently doing her work placement for Law and all the formality has rubbed off. Once Niall releases him, Harry took the offer and gave a soft hand shake before leaning down and softly pecking the back of her hand with a smile. Lola let out a soft sound followed by a giggle and Louis smiled fondly.

“Oi! No wooing my girlfriend.” Niall blurts before Zayn has a chance to speak and a statement like that is certain to shut him up. “You seem like a barrel of charm and Lola has that look.” He folds his arms for dramatic effect whilst he raises an eyebrow at Lola.

“He’s just being a gentleman.” Lola suggests withdrawing her hand and picking up her drink to sip, smirking around the glass.

“Besides,” Harry adds, Stepping back so he can see everyone again, pressed up to Louis’ side. Zayn has taken his drink back into his hand as well, clutching it so it rests against his lips. It’s almost like a protection, Louis does it sometimes, a protection for everyone else to stop you from saying something you shouldn’t. Harry continues, “Girls aren’t really my cup of tea.”

Louis can feel is jaw drop and it becomes too heavy to shut again. Zayn’s eyes are boring into the side of his face and he is frozen. Every memory flashes in front of him. Harry’s gay, Harry is Gay.

Niall continues with the conversation but Louis isn’t listening. His mind can’t pick the words from the muffled sounds reaching his ears. He must have asked Harry to sit down because he’s shuffling in next to Zayn. Zayn has snapped back into the group and put on his front to introduce himself to Harry.

There are alarm bells going off in his mind, telling him to run, telling him to turn around and get out of this mess before it’s too late, but he ignores them. He lets his memories of Harry play back to him on a cinema screen inside his head. Every single thing that they went through and every single time Louis felt a little bit of his heart crumble away because Harry was straight. But he wasn’t, Harry is gay.

He doesn’t know how to feel so he doesn’t feel anything. He remembers how his 17 year old self felt when he had to go and he remembers every tear he shed and the sadness and heartache that racked over him daily. Every time Harry comforted him and every time he made him genuinely smile, but right now. Louis feels nothing.

So, instead of running he pulls up a chair and plasters on a smile and tries to keep up with what the group are saying.

“Are you sure it’s alright?” Harry is asking, looking to all four of them for an answer. He looks at Louis who gives him a tight lipped nod, hoping that he is only agreeing to something minor.

“Yeah, the more the merrier, right?” Niall laughs and nudges Lola with his elbow, resulting in her nodding enthusiastically before playfully shove Niall back. Sometimes Louis thinks that those two are too similar. That they get along too well for it to be real. They do everything together, joined at the hip, and they’ve been like that since they all met. Whenever you saw one you saw the other and they were always so loved up and sweet with each other. The sort of couple people would fawn over and admire, but Louis refuses to believe that everything is sunshine and rainbows all the time, there must be some issues. He tells Zayn this almost every day but it’s hard for him to be persuaded.

“Liam.” Zayn says to the group, it’s only now that Louis realises Harry has left the table. “Do you reckon that’s a boyfriend?”

“What?” Louis blurts abruptly, looking between the three sets of eyes.

“Harry’s inviting someone called Liam. He said mate though so I’m pretty sure it’s not a boyfriend.” Harry can’t have a boyfriend, there’s already too much information to drown in and too many people around him. “No need to be disappointed.” Louis goes to defend himself before he realises that Niall is looking at Zayn. “He’s hot, you should go for it.” Niall really has no idea.

“No.” Zayn says loudly, looking down into his glass.

“What?” Niall says, holding his hands up in defence. “Just saying, he’s your type.”

At that comment, Zayn puts his glass down and looks directly at Niall. “He’s not my type.”

“He seems nice though, you like nice guys. Though, you do seem to be going for blondes a lot recently.” Niall thinks back and you can see the cogs spinning in his mind. “Who was the last one? I can’t even remember it was ages ago, Perrie?”

“Er, yeah.”  Zayn confirms with a small nod. “Perrie.”

“What happened to her?” Lola leans back into Niall’s side and lets his hand fall to her hip, rubbing small circles out of habit.

Louis steps in before Zayn has a panic attack. That’s only happened once before but Zayn is starting to look flustered. He is usually so happy and boisterous with anyone, easy to talk to but laid back. Until you mention relationships or anything to do with his love life. That, he hates taking about. “It just wasn’t working out.”

Luckily for them, Harry returns before more questions are asked.

“He’ll be here in about 20 minutes. Anyone for another round of drinks? On me.”

And so the night goes on like that. Everyone gets on well and Louis watches from afar adding prompts when he needs to. Liam arrives after a while and he seems nice enough.

He’s broad and muscly with a bit of stubble. He’s wearing a shirt with some tight legged trousers and very smart looking shoes. He looks as if he’s just come from work which prompts Harry to mention that they work together and Liam had to pop into the office for a couple of hours this afternoon. They go on to talk about work but Harry leaves it vague again and Liam just says it’s stressful but has its perks.

Zayn speaks about his painting and how he has his first big commission running at the moment and the deadline is coming up so the pressure is building on and Niall speaks about his music and his friend Ed who is helping him out.

Nobody asks how Louis and Harry met and Louis is so grateful.

The more and more they talk and drink the more everyone loosens up and starts to talk about more personal things but Louis just lets the words fly past his head. He can’t take them in and even when he does they don’t have any meaning attached to them.

Harry keeps throwing glances at him and Louis can see the questions, see them bursting to get out but being held back by caution. He needs so many answers but Louis knows he can’t provide them all so why start out only to disappoint. There are moments when Louis feels the brush of Harry’s shoe against his ankle and up his calf but there is no acknowledge meant on Harry’s end so Louis lets the tingling sensation subside and keeps up his act.

They all head their separate ways at about 11, exchanging numbers and farewells. Just as Louis starts to back his way out the door, letting his façade of smiles slowly fade, Zayn catches his arm.

“Is this the guy?” His hushed voice burns through Louis’ ear as his thumb rubs over his sleeve.  Louis only nods and gives him another forced smile despite knowing Zayn can see through them.

Zayn releases his arm and passes it off as a goodbye, shouting something along the lines of ‘See you soon.’ But Louis can’t be sure because he has already left.

He’d been alone for so long that the presence of other people has thrown him sideways. He just wants to pull his way back to his flat so he can stand upright again or float up to the ceiling and see the world upside down.


	4. Thoughts in the Way of Your Smile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of fluff and a bit of sad.

Louis’ phone is ringing. It’s been ringing for about three minutes none stop but he’s not sure if it’s an alarm or a call. He doesn’t have a voicemail on his phone so it keeps ringing until the other end hangs up, but who would let it ring for three minutes?

He rolls over to see that it is a call, from no other than Harry Styles.

Without hesitation, he answers. “Hullo?”

“Hey! I didn’t wake you did I?” Louis hasn’t slept all night. He spent his evening worrying about nothing and everything. “It’s still pretty early. Shit, I should of thought about this. No wonder you took so long to pick up.” Harry sounds very flustered. “I’m was up early for this big meeting at work but I have the rest of the day off-”

“Relax.” Louis laughs, surprised by his own calming tone. “I was up.”

“Oh, good. Sorry, I was rambling” Harry giggles and Louis really shouldn’t find it endearing. He really shouldn’t find it this easy to talk to Harry. “I was wondering if you wanted to go out for dinner?” The words comes out rushed and quiet as if he was nervous.

“Dinner?” The surprise in his voice is hard to mask. That sounds like a lot of effort. It also sounds like a date. Harry shouldn’t want to date him; he’s too out of Louis’ league to even consider it. This has to be a misunderstanding. 

“Yeah!” Louis can hear the smile in Harry’s voice and can picture the dimples that would appear on his cheeks, remembers what they feel like to poke at. “My treat.” There is no way this is happening, this has to be some elaborate prank or a joke that’s going to be taken too far.

“Okay.” Louis’ heart beats his brain in the race to his lips. The words sound raspy though, almost distant, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Okay.” It comes out firmer and more confident. Faking confidence should be at the top of Louis’ resume.

“Great.” The smile can still be heard. “I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear something nice.” The line goes dead and Louis doesn’t know what to do. Harry can’t have been serious and if he is he’s going to live to regret it. Louis drags everyone down so it’s best if Harry learns to stay away. Sooner rather than later.

Because, if this isn’t a cruel joke and Harry isn’t misunderstood then there is one thing Louis is certain of. They’re both making a mistake.

Harry’s going to realise how boring Louis is. He’s going to see all of Louis flaws the minute Louis lets his walls down at all. He’s going to realise he’s made a mistake and leave without a goodbye, just like Louis’ did. The mistake Louis made was letting him back in at all.

Louis feels wetness on his hands so holds them up to the small crack of light seeping in through the blinds. When they reach the only brightness in the room Louis sees his palms.

In a haze of self-hatred Louis had curled his balls into fists. As the anger towards himself increased and Louis squeezed his hands into tighter balls, he had somehow failed to realise his nails were breaking the skin.

 

~

When the knock on the door comes Louis has convinced himself that it isn’t a date. He’s absolutely positive that this is just old friends having a catch up and that Harry isn’t attracted to him just like before and nothing has changed.

Then Harry is holding flowers and wearing a suit and Louis nearly faints.

He’s gorgeous. His long hair flowing down over his shoulders his shirt unbuttoned past his chest. It’s sheer with a soft red pattern all over making it almost impossible not to glace over his body and take in the tattoos that show through the fabric. He has a black blazer over the top, making the outfit even more formal and the black trousers hugging his thighs make his legs look like they go on for miles. He’s gorgeous.

Louis is not. He doesn’t own any more suits and he didn’t really understand what Harry meant by wear something nice so he through on an old baby blue button up he hasn’t worn in years along with some black jeans that are too tight so probably don’t do him any favours. His shoes look tatty and old but they are the nicest pair he has, whereas Harry’s are shiny and new with a slight heel making him even taller and the height difference even more noticeable.

“I got you these.” The smile on his face is contagious. “Your favourite used to be lilies,” The flowers are almost as gorgeous as the man who brought them.  Pink and white lilies mixed in with some smaller flowers Louis doesn’t recognise. “I hope it hasn’t changed.” It doesn’t, nothing ever does.

“Thank you.” Louis’ smile is genuine but only small. He walks back into the kitchen with the bouquet only to realise he has nowhere to put them. He doesn’t own a vase or a bowl big enough. As a make-do he wills the sink with a bit of water and rests them inside, still in the packaging, before returning to the hall.

“Ready to go?” Harry asks, nodding his head back out to corridor. Louis only nods in reply, grabbing his coat from back of the door and exiting his flat, nerves filling him to the brim.

Harry drives them, his car looks expensive but Louis doesn’t know enough about cars to judge but surely Harry cant earn _that_ much in marketing, especially at his age. He does know, however, that the doors are quite high and it is a bit of a struggle to get in. the interior is classy with wooden dash boards and fancy dials that Louis doesn’t think he should touch. They make their way there (where ever that may be) in silence.

It doesn’t take long to reach their destination but when they do Louis’ jaw drops.

The Box Tree. Louis has never been here before but he knows people who have and it is ridiculously expensive and posh and everything Louis isn’t.

“Harry?” Louis doesn’t even turn to face him, just keeps staring out the window. “I can’t afford this place.” He feels embarrassed saying it and kind of stupid but he has no idea what made Harry think he could afford somewhere like this.

“I know.” It doesn’t sound harsh just understanding. “I’m paying.” Louis whips his head round. There is no way he should be spending that sort of money. It’s far too much to be spending on anyone, especially Louis, unless you earn extortionate amounts. The sort of amounts that mean you never have to think about it ever again.

“No.” Louis’ head starts shaking uncontrollable but not as much as his hands. He’s trembling and he has no idea why. “We can go somewhere else.”

“I like this place though.” Harry pouts as if he has genuinely been here thousands of times before. As if this is actually his favourite place to go for dinner on a Thursday night. “I came here with work a few weeks ago and I think it’s perfect.”

That explains a lot then. Harry’s boss probably paid for him the first time round, buying his meal and ordering drinks like the money doesn’t matter. It doesn’t explain why Harry is about to spend his entire weeks earnings on Louis.

He opens his mouth to argue but Harry is already out the car. He watches in awe as he jogs around the front to pull open the door for Louis.

“We’re parking here?” They have stopped directly in front of the entrance on what Louis is pretty sure is double yellow lines. As much as he’s prefer not to have to park miles away and walk , he doesn’t want Harry paying for a parking ticket on top of the meal.

“Er, its fine,” Harry looks like he’s scrambling for an explanation, “They come out and, er, park it for you.” This is definitely going to cost far too much.

A guy in a tux comes out immediately after that to take Harry’s keys and then another pops out as soon as they walk through the doors to take their coats. When Harry’s blazer is gone Louis can see his back muscles flex under the see-through material. He licks his lips on reflex.

“Styles?” A young woman in a tight red dress asks, walking around the counter to the left and grabbing the menus. Harry gives a small brief nod. “Right this way.” She starts walking through  the restaurant, weaving in and out of tables. Louis doesn’t realise he isn’t moving until Harry’s large, warm hand presses into the dip of his spine to help him along.

They have a table by the window looking out at the city with all the lights Louis can see from his room, only a different angle. A different perspective of the same world but everything is still the same inside.

Yet another waiter is standing by the table with the stereotypical napkin over his arm. He pulls the chairs out for both of them and lays the napkins in their laps whilst the woman comes around and places the menus in their hands, explaining each one.

“This is the standard menu. These are the set courses. These are the specials we have in today. This is the drinks menu, and this,” She hands Harry the final one, “Is the wine list. We have a special import from France of Krug Clos du Mesnil Blanc de Blancs Brut, which is a champagne and another of Moet et Chandon Dom Perignon both of which will only be here for the next few days depending on demand.” Louis nods along despite not understanding a word, completely in taken aback by the words. “Each of the specials has a recommendation of wine below it if you are looking for something to compliment your meal and our set courses have wines included in the price.”

As she finishes she pulls forward the specific menu in Louis’ grasp he tries to find the price but can’t see it. “If you are want to know the prices before ordering I can get you the price list for the set course. The other menus have the prices below the descriptions.” Louis pulls another menu forward himself to find the prices but everything is written in French. He spots a few numbers here and there and they all seem extremely high. The first one costs £60 and Louis is pretty certain that Entrée only means starter.

When he looks up she is gone and Harry is looking at him with soft eyes.

“I’m sorry if it’s all a bit much.” He says, sounding sincere.

“A bit much?” Louis chuckles. “This is bloody extortionate. Why did you bring me here?” He comes off a bit more blunt than intended so quickly looks down at his menu.

“Because you deserve it” He think he hears harry say but he doesn’t glance up, only skimming his eyes over words he doesn’t understand. “Any ideas?” Harry asks.

“Erm, no not yet.” Louis tries to understand at least something so he doesn’t make an absolute fool of himself. He thinks maybe ‘le plat principal’ is the main course he looks through that for something he recognises. “Any recommendations?”

Harry nods like he completely understands. “Are you fussy?” Louis shakes his head because he really isn’t. He would eat anything as a kid and still would. “Okay, good.” Harry takes one last quick look at the menus before beckoning over a waiter.

“Are you ready to order, Sir?” This one has a slight French hilt to his tone. Louis panics because ehe definitely hasn’t decided yet.

“Yes,” Harry says, laying out the menus in front of him. “We will take the Chicken Liver Parfait and the Broccoli with Buerre Blanc to start.” Louis scrambles to find them on the menu but at this point he is probably looking at the wrong one. “Then the Potato Gratin and the Beef bourguignon.” Louis is definitely looking at the wrong menu.

“And to drink?” The waiter takes the food menus off both of them leaving only the wine list and the drinks. Harry looks to Louis.

“Red or white?” he places a hand on top of Louis’ and it makes Louis feel grounded.

“White.” He says confidently because this is a question he actually knows the answer too.  Harry nods with a smile and turns back to the waiter.

“What year is your Salon Cuvee 'S' Le Mesnil Blanc de Blancs?” His voice curves around French words so beautifully that Louis can’t let his gaze move from his lips.

“1996, Sir.”

“Perfect! We will take a bottle of that.” The man nods and gathers the last of the menus but just before he goes Harry continues. “Oh and can we have some water and breads for the table?”

“Of course, Sir. Sparkling or still? And any specification for the breads?” Harry looks like he is at home in this environment, making Louis wonder how often his bosses take them all out. If only his boss was that nice and didn’t, you know, fire him.

“Still, please, and no, no preference, just whatever you have fresh.”  Harry is so polite and kind and everything Louis’ not. He really shouldn’t be here.

The waiter doesn’t reply, instead giving a brief nod and leaving towards what Louis suspects is the kitchen.

Their silence continues until the wine comes a few minutes later.

“Salon Cuvee?” It’s a different man to before but Louis can hardly complain.

“Yes, yes.” Harry smiles, sitting back to the waiter can pour a drop into the bottom of his glass. Harry picks it up gently, which seems odd with his large hands, and takes a small sip. Louis can see the way his tongue swirls it around in his mouth before he swallows. “Lovely.”

The man goes on to pour out half a glass for both of them and then places the open bottle in a metal case on the table. As he does that, another man comes over with the water and bread.

Then they are alone.

“You look really nice tonight.” Harry places his hand over Louis’ on the table again but this time Louis pulls away.

“What?” It’s been so long since anyone has complimented him he doesn’t know how to react. It’s as if every receptor on his body has caught fire.

“You look nice, handsome.” Harry seems to have understood that Louis is surprised judging by his cautious tone but Louis doesn’t want anyone to tip toe around him so he plasters on a calm face.

“Thank you.” In the process of trying to appreciate the comment Louis lets out a high giggle which in turn causes his cheeks to flush pink. He coughs to clear his throat before repeating, “Thanks.”

Harry’s smile suddenly turns almost sheepish as he busies himself with pouring them both some water. He’s like a work of art that Louis can’t help but admire, unashamed of the obviousness of his stare because by now people would have to be stupid not to be thinking the same. Suddenly, Louis feels so awkward. He’s thinking about the way his arms are sitting on the table and where his legs are in relation to Harry’s. He feels self-conscious about his posture, trying to figure out if he is sat up straight enough.

He’s so out of place.

Harry is so perfect and everything Louis doesn’t deserve and Louis is just boring and plain and forever the same. It won’t take long for Harry to give up on him and move on to someone far more interesting.

“You’re thinking of something sad aren’t you?” Louis forgot where they were for a moment but Harry’s voice brings him back to the noise of the restaurant. Families chattering, couples eating. He and Harry haven’t even seen each other in years; Louis forgot how well they knew each other.

Louis doesn’t reply, he just looks at Harry in awe.

“You shouldn’t.” Harry continues, “Because I can guarantee what you’re thinking isn’t true.” Before Louis can argue their starters are arriving.

The portions are tiny, only taking up a quarter of the plates. Harry asks for them to be placed in the centre of the table so they can share but it’s pretty hard to share something so small. Louis finishes his half of them in two mouthfuls. Despite the size, they taste delicious.

“I was thinking you should have the beef and I’ll have the gratin for the main, is that alright?” Harry asks, finishing the last of the broccoli. “It’s nice and if you don’t like it we can swap or get something else.”

“No, that’s fine.” He doesn’t know whether he will like it but he will get what he is given. Harry is being far too generous. Harry puts down his fork and meets his eyes.

“Good. Erm,” Louis raises an eyebrow, awaiting what Harry is trying to say. “You have a little, er.” He gestures to Louis’ mouth with his finger. Louis lets his own hand fly up to get it, wiping at his chin. “No, er, the left.” He moves his hand to the left, using the back of his hand to wipe which is hardly elegant. “My left.” Harry says smiling as Louis wipes again on the right of his mouth. “Down a bit.” Louis huffs slightly but moves his hand down. This is getting slightly embarrassing.

“Gone?” He asks, moving his hand away completely.

“No,” Harry chuckles slightly, leaning forward in his seat so his bum lifts up. “Come ‘ere.”  He reaches his hand out and swipes at the corner of Louis’ mouth with his thumb. The touch is gentle but the nerve endings on Louis’ face go crazy, tingling because if the simple brush of Harry’s skin. He can’t help but smile. “Got it!” Harry proclaims a tad too loud. He then goes onto suck the tip of his thumb into his mouth. It wasn’t meant to mean anything, Louis is sure, but that doesn’t stop the shiver that runs down his spine.

By the time the mains arrived, Louis has loosened up a bit.

His food looks lovely, if still a little on the small side, and the waiter refills their glasses with wine. Harry is already rather giggly from the first half a glass but that’s fine by Louis; his laugh is adorable.

Louis had actually managed to squeeze in a joke here and there, only so he could see the smile on Harry’s face or hear his giggle again.

“You always knew how to make me laugh, Lou.” The nickname rolls off his tongue and Louis doesn’t know how long it’s going to take before that feels normal again. That is, if they even stay in touch after this disaster of a date. If Louis’ honest with himself, everything so far has just been Harry being polite. “Always were the joker.” He emphasises the point be knocking his ankle into Louis’.

“You were the only one who found me funny.” Louis replies without thinking, picking up his fork to start his food. “Everyone else thought I was a twat.” They still do, he doesn’t add. He also doesn’t mention that Harry was the only one he ever wanted to laugh at his jokes.

“Yeah, well.” Harry trails off, obviously hinting at something.

“Hey!” Louis is so caught up in the world of Harry and the past that he forgets to be cautious, forgets to be sad. “I wasn’t a twat.” He tries to look angry but his smile is so wide he can’t.

“Sure.” Harry winks before digging into his food.

They eat in silence for a few minutes, but it’s not uncomfortable.

“How’s your food?” Harry gestures to Louis’ plate with his fork.

“Delicious, thank you.” He speaks with his mouth full, only realising in time to catch a bit of food threatening to fly out with his hand. He really is bad at dating. In fact, he’s bad a socialising in general. It’s been far too long. “Yours?”

“It’s good. Want to try some?” Louis nods, maybe a little too quickly but Harry’s meal looks amazing. The lay out is beautiful even after Harry has attached it with a fork. “Here.” Harry scoops some up onto his own fork and holds it out near Louis’ face.

Louis freezes, looking between the fork and Harry’s face. He’s not sure how to handle this. The simple answer is to take the food and eat it without mentioning it but for some reason that seems really hard. It makes this date seem so much more date like.

But then Harry is wafting the food around a bit more to get his attention and Louis just opens his mouth, letting Harry feed him. It’s amusing to watch Harry open his own mouth in a mirror of Louis.

“Mmm.” It tastes even better than it looks.

“Good isn’t it?” harry smiles, taking another mouthful for himself.

“Yeah, do you want some of mine?” Louis asks, getting ready to scoop come up.

“Nah, I’ve had that dish before.” Okay, so maybe Harry has been here more than once before.  “You can have it all.”

The rest of the meal goes without trauma, Louis doesn’t embarrass himself too much and Harry doesn’t seem to be tiptoeing around him anymore. It feels so natural, casual conversations exchanged between chewing. Harry doesn’t really ask many questions which Louis is grateful for; it gives him more time before Harry realises how messed up he is.

Harry refuses to let him even look at the bill so Louis has no idea how much the dinner cost, though judging by the size of the tip Harry leaves for the waiters, it wasn’t cheap.

He drives Louis back to the flat but doesn’t make a move to get out of the car, giving Louis a weird side hug across the gear stick. It feels forced and awkward and Louis doesn’t know how to  react. Harry seems to have suddenly changed, being cautious and tentative. He doesn’t even look towards Louis until the very last second.

“You should smile more.” He says out the door just before Louis swings it shut. “Don’t let your thoughts drag you down.”


	5. Ice, Ice and Fairy Lights.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go ice skating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait!!

“He’s grown up so much, Zayn.” Louis is lying on the floor in his living room, staring at a blank spot on the ceiling. “He’s like, he’s a man now.”

Zayn has sat himself on Louis’ couch, picking at the leftover pizza Louis ordered for himself at four in the morning. He’s hardly eaten anything but that’s just Zayn: He has moments when he can eat a banquet for ten and then days where he has no appetite at all. It’s normal for him. “That sounds weird, mate.” Despite his eating habits of late, today is a good day for Zayn.

“He’s just different. Not a kid anymore.” The last time he saw harry before these few weeks, before he left, Harry had his hair cut short so there were tight ringlets sticking out from behind his ears (complained about its length every time his mum made him cut it. He always preferred it long so it’s hardly a surprise it has reached its current state. Not that Louis minds). He wore the baggiest clothes which have now been traded for sheer shirts that look like they could be designer but knowing Harry, probably aren’t.

Well, they could be, Louis doesn’t really know him at all anymore.

“I think I get ya.” Zayn is pulling out a cigarette now. It’s his sixth since he got here which is probably a new record considering he’s only been here since half four.

A glance at the clock tells Louis that was 5 hours ago.

He should probably get off the floor.

He doesn’t.

“The date sounded like it went well.” Zayn continues with the lit cigarette between his lips. His voice is masked in fake enthusiasm but Louis can feel the sadness. The jealousy.

Yesterday’s adventures really were something else if Louis is being honest with himself. He remembers the moments where he felt happy, but only as a memory.

“It was awkward. I ruined it.” It’s true, Louis did ruin it. He didn’t play his part well. Harry put all this effort into an evening that would have been amazing. If he’d taken someone else.

“Louis,” It sounds a lot like comfort, which Louis doesn’t want. He wants someone who tells him how it is.

“No. Say what you’d want to hear.” It’s a thing the two of them have now. Through everything that has happened finding friendship in one another was really a turning point. It didn’t so much take away the sadness for either of them; it just gave them company through it.  They both understand what it feels like to be lost.

“It was probably awkward for him but that doesn’t mean it always will be. He may be blaming himself.” That makes it worse though, doesn’t it? Harry blaming himself for something that was blatantly Louis’ fault.

“And that’s better, how?”

“You didn’t ask for better you asked for the truth.” Louis doesn’t argue because he knows he will lose. Zayn is nearly always right; he has wisdom far beyond his years and it’s almost scary sometimes how smart he is. Mostly it’s just annoying.

“How’s Niall?” He asks instead, trying to shift the focus off himself before it becomes too much. It’s a bit of a dick move judging by the way Zayn’s shoulders droop.

“He’s obsessed with Harry.” Louis can’t see Zayn’s face and he is grateful. “They’ve been talking a lot.” He keeps up with everyone, Zayn.

“Really?” Louis does feel a pang of jealousy because Harry hasn’t really been talking to him that much. If he texts nearly as much as he used to, Louis would be getting a stream of constant messages by now. Obviously, Louis isn’t of too much importance in Harry’s mind.

“Yeah, we all love him.” There’s a pause but it’s tense. Louis knows what Zayn is going to say next. “Nothing like what you usually go for. He’s someone you deserve, Lou.” And that’s just great isn’t it? Zayn pointing out how much better Harry is than everyone Louis normally gets and in turn suggesting he’s probably way out of Louis’ league. It’s the truth though, Harry is utterly gorgeous, as close to perfect as you can get without taking away the character.

“I don’t deserve anything.”

Louis hears his phone vibrating on the coffee table. “It’s Harry.” Zayn picks it up and hands it to him, already having pressed the answer button, giving Louis no escape.

“Hi.” His voice is soft and quiet and shy. It’s embarrassing how little confidence he has left after everything that happened, it slipped away until there was little more than a speck of courage.

“Hi.” Harry’s tone is similar but his voice is louder. “How are you?”

It’s a question Louis doesn’t even think about and to be honest never has. If someone asks ‘how are you?’ he has always given the exact same response no matter what the truth is.

“I’m good thanks, and yourself?”

“I’m great, thanks.” There seem to be a lot of pauses in Louis life as of late and it’s different, worrying.

His moral was don’t stop. He always busied himself with parties and work and friends, all the time without a break because, once he did stop, it gave him time to think and that is far scarier than being busy.

“I’m going ice skating tonight with a few friends.” Harry blurts out and it seems like an almost random statement to make but Louis won’t point it out. “If you want to come.” Ah, that’s something.

Not only does this mean spending time with people he doesn’t know, it also means Louis is thrown in amongst Harry’s friends, an afterthought almost. He is no different from them, just a tick on Harrys guest list.

“Erm, I’m not sure.” He scrambles for an excuse, avoiding Zayn’s questioning gaze.

“Come on, I’ve invited Niall as well.” Great, proves how special Louis is. “It’ll be fun. The ice rink is only open a few more nights so we should make the most of it, yeah?”

Louis still can’t find it within himself to say no.

“Okay, but only for a bit. I’m exhausted, I need an early night.” Now Zayn really must be confused. He knows Louis doesn’t sleep.

“Yeah, yeah! Sure, that’s fine. Erm, It’s the ice rink down by Spinningfields. Is that alright for you to get to?” He’s so sweet and caring and everything Louis’ never had and never will be.

“No, that’s fine. I’ll get a lift off Zayn.”

“Oh, okay! Does he want to join us? I’m not sure if I have enough places booked but I’m sure” Louis cuts him off, almost certain Zayn shouldn’t go if there is a chance it will ruin his good mood (relatively speaking that is).

“No, he’s busy tonight.” He rushes, hoping Zayn doesn’t question it.

“Okay. So I’ll, I mean, we’ll meet you out the front about 7?” Louis makes a mental note of it.

“Yeah, sounds good to me.” He’s definitely getting the hang of talking to Harry. “See you then.”

“See ya, Lou.” The nickname comes down on him like needles in all his nerve endings even though he knows it’s nothing more than a memory.

 

~

“Zayn, this was a mistake.” He’s trying to tie up his shoes and pull his jumper on at the same time. It’s probably cold enough for a coat but Louis likes to be cold, it makes him feel numb. “I haven’t been ice skating since I was 8” He thinks back to that memory and winces, He nearly cracked his head open on the corner of a wall that day. It was scary.

“You’ll be fine.” Zayn says, but it’s a throw away comment, made whilst his gaze is fixed down onto his phone.

“You can come back here if you want. I still have some fresh food in the fridge.” He doesn’t trust Zayn to have any in his own.

“No, it’s fine. I’m not going home.” Louis finishes his laces and looks up to Zayn with an eyebrow raised.

“Where are you go-”

“You ready?” Zayn cuts him of, shoving his phone in his pocket along with his hands. He’s not wearing a jacket at all, just a t-shirt and black jeans and his bracelets. They’re the same bracelets as always, used to hide his pain, only Louis knows what he has done in the past. He’s almost certain Zayn has stopped now, hopes he has. It’s the only reassurance Louis can take.

“Yeah, Yeah, gimme a sec.” He runs back to grab his phone, avoiding his own gaze “Let’s go.” He walks past Zayn and heads straight to the lift. Zayn in tow.

Zayn’s bike is old and battered, close to breaking point. He remembers the day Zayn bought it almost a year ago, deciding he finally couldn’t be bothered to walk everywhere (Louis tries to ignore how easily Zayn can get out of breath now). They went together to pick it up and Louis’ jaw had dropped at the state it was in. Zayn’s only reply was that it ‘represents their life’.

To begin with Louis resisted getting on it, saying it was too dangerous and in such a bad condition but recently, he’s stopped caring. If they crash, they crash; the worst that can happen is this misery of a life will end.

He waits for Zayn to climb on before joining him, holding on to Zayn’s waist and tapping to signal he’s ready and then they are setting off.

The trip only takes 10 minutes with Zayn weaving in and out of traffic and Louis hasn’t been this far out from his flat in this direction since august.

Christmas lights are up already, hanging from trees and on the sides of buildings. The ice rink is in the middle of what would usually be a park and it looks absolutely beautiful. Fairy lights are hanging over the top of it and there are children messing around on the ice as well as friends having fun and couples on dates. Perfect for Christmas.

As they pull up to the entrance, Louis spots a figure he recognises. Harry is wearing a long black coat over his skinny jeans that Louis has now become accustomed to. There is also a long patterned scarf around his neck, different shades of brown. He looks amazing, classy, beautiful.

There’s also no one with him.

“Off you jump Louis. I’m in a rush.” Zayn states rather bluntly, balancing the bike with his foot. He even shakes it slightly for added effect.

Louis is then faced with the issue of trying to get off the back of the bike without embarrassing himself. His feet don’t quite touch the ground properly so the task is pretty difficult. The only way he can do it without kicking Zayn is to slip off backward.

Sliding back slowly, he puts his foot down on a loose slab of pavement which gives out from under him, sending him flying backward.

A hand shoots out behind him to stop him from falling, a hand that belongs to Harry Styles.

“Careful.” He says with a smirk, straightening Louis out and smoothing out his jumper for him. “We’re not even on the ice yet.” Louis feels heat rise up to his cheeks and quickly ducks his head to hide the blush that will be gathering.

“Sorry.” He mumbles, glancing up through his fringe. Harry is smiling so wide that Louis has no choice but deciding to return the favour. He finds he is already smiling anyway.

“No need to be sorry.” Harry says, tapping his arm slightly. Then his smile falls. “Erm, Niall and the others couldn’t erm, make it.” He looks nervous, as if it was an issue. “I guess there would have been a place for Zayn after all.” For some unknown reason to Louis, Harry is acting all awkward and not himself. He suddenly wishes that Zayn had stayed.

“He can’t stay on his feet for too long anyway.” He’s desperate to keep the subject of himself. “He says he’s got Low blood pressure” It’s easy talking about Zayn; it’s someone he can answer anything about. He knows more about Zayn than he does about himself. “I don’t think adding blades to the situation would be much help.” He’s making jokes, if he makes jokes he’ll seem normal.

It must be working because Harry laughs, loud. It’s a thing of beauty. The same way a sunset is beautiful or the reflection of mountains in a lake. Louis could stand and watch it for hours.

“Do you want to go get our shoes then?” The thought makes Louis panic slightly. He had completely forgotten that ice skating would actually involve skating. On ice.

“Erm, sure.” He hears his voice weaken, realisation setting in that they will be alone for the night again. Awkwardness insured to come.

Harry leads him into the small building by the rink. Inside, there’s a small desk crowed by people. So many people. Behind that, Louis can see rows upon rows of skates, one by one being plucked off the shelf and being handed to one of the awaiting customers.

“What size?” Harry suddenly asks, placing a hand on the bottom of Louis’ spine to get his attention.

“Huh?”

“Shoes, what size?” Harry repeats, pulling away and walking slowly backwards towards the counter.

“Eight.” Louis suddenly feels really small, only emphasised when he hears Harry ask for a size 11 for himself. Louis makes quick work of toeing off his shoes, managing to get them off just as the lady behind the table hands over the two pairs of skates. Harry’s shoes are already waiting on the counter to be taken. Louis has no idea how he managed to get those boots off that quickly.

He also takes note of how much Harry knows what he is doing here.

“Here you go.” He hands the smaller skates over to Louis and then walks over to a bench, dropping down to sit and put on his skates. Louis follows.

The buckles on the shoes are really stiff so he can only manage to hook the first metal piece across. Harry must notice his struggle because it isn’t long before Harry leans over a slips both clasps shut on both shoes with ease, standing up and coming to face Louis.

“Ready?” The smirk is back on his face and he only waits for a nod before turning and heading towards the entrance of the rink, disappearing onto the ice.

Louis is left to face the tricky part by himself. Standing up isn’t as difficult as he first thought it would be, walking is a different matter entirely. The blades on the bottom of the boots throw him off balance slightly, causing him to need to hold his arms out slightly so as not to fall. The distance between the bench and the rink isn’t too far but it feels like a marathon.

The second he steps onto the ice, his foot gives out from under him and he finds himself scrambling to grab onto the wall. He lets out an almost pitiful squeal which alerts his presence to a few too many skaters and pulls himself to a balance again.

He decides his safest bet is staying by the wall and pulling himself around that way, trying to spot Harry on the far side of the rink.

When he does spot him his jaw almost drops. He looks magical, skating around with so much ease, spinning and jumping and moving backwards. There are a few little kids giggling at him as he skates circles around them, a smile wide on his face.

Louis would go over to him if he could, but the ice is far too slippery and the people skating around are too much of a hazard with the blades on the bottom of their feet.

Maybe this is what’s meant to happen? They came as friends so maybe Harry expects them to skate separately. Louis wouldn’t want to be seen with himself either if people might assume they were on a date or something. Harry’s probably really pissed that no one else could make it.

Suddenly, there is a couple of girls trying to get into the rink and Louis realises he’s in the way, pretty good metaphor for his life, so he reaches out to grab a further along the wall and pull himself slowly a metre across the ice.

“You can’t stay at the edges all night.” There’s a hand on his shoulder, spinning him around so quickly he wobbles for a good five seconds before grabbing the wall again with his other hand. He’s met with Harry’s smiling face. “You’ve got to at least try actually skate.”

“I’ll be bad.” Louis mumbles, looking down at his feet. Harry is so good at skating and Louis will just embarrass himself, embarrass Harry.

“And? You’ll get the hang of it eventually.” He doesn’t let Louis protest, instead taking his hand that it gripping the wall, so tight his knuckles turn white, and holds it tight, not moving for a moment.

“I’ll fall.” Louis tries; just wishing Harry would give up and go have fun. He didn’t come here with the aim of being stuck with Louis. He glances down at the way Harry’s hands grip his. They’re so much bigger, completely engulfing Louis’ slim fingers. Without warning, Harry starts skating backwards, pulling Louis with him.

“You won’t fall if you don’t let go.” Louis lets a small smile fall on his face but he can’t help but feel guilty. Guilty because he is probably cutting off the circulation in Harry’s hand with his death grip. Guilty because Harry is forced to help him. Guilty because he is actually enjoying himself.

Harry’s hands in his, the lights, the small smiles and careful glances. It all feels very romantic, far too romantic for two people who are only friends, especially when Harry. The guilt sets in again.

“Okay, so try move one foot then the other.” Harry suggests, demonstrating what to do but backwards. It’s so embarrassing how good Harry is in comparison. Harry must feel embarrassed to be seen with Louis. “Like, erm, don’t lift them up just yet. Just, like get the movement first, yeah?”

Louis does as he’s told and tries to push forward on the ice, moving his left foot and then his right, in time with Harry’s. It goes well.

“Now try like, lift your feet off before you move forward. Like, step into it.” Louis nods, quickly glancing up at Harry through his fringe to find harry smiley softly back at him. They’re quite close now, Louis can see the air as it leaves Harry into the cold.

Taking his left foot off the floor, he steps forward onto it. It immediately slips from underneath him and he tumbles forward, grabbing Harry’s forearms to try and steady himself. It doesn’t work, instead he topples over, taking Harry with him.

Harry lets out an ‘oomph’ as he hits the ice, Louis falling on top of him. They land in a heap, legs tangled and hands gripping each other’s arms. Their faces are only inches apart and Harry is looking up at him wide eyed with a grin on his face. Great, time to make fun of Louis.

“Sorry.” Louis mumbles, pulling back to sit on his knees. He would try to stand but he has no idea how to.

“No need.” Harry says, grin still present as he stands easily, “Accidents happen.” He holds out a hand for Louis’. Considering it for a moment, Louis grabs Harry’s hand firmly and pulls himself to his feet.

“Sorry.” Louis says again, he has no idea why he is stupidly repeating himself. Must be the guilt.

“Stop apologising.” Harry laughs, tapping the tip of Louis’ nose with his index finger, coxing a unwanted giggle out of him.

They continue like that for a good hour. Harry guiding Louis and pulling him along, being patient when Louis does fall, and giving him tips as they go. Eventually Louis could do it without holding Harry’s hand and if he wasn’t mistaken Harry almost looked like a proud mother. Of course he does, Louis always needs babying.

“I think we should have a race before we go.” Harry says, a completely serious look on his face.

“What?”

“A race, from here to the exit.” Louis looks across the ice. The exit looks very far away but Harry looks so excited, he almost looks 15 again.

“Okay.” He takes a long breathe to regulate his breathing and calm his nerves. He can do this. The ice has emptied quite a lot since they arrived so there isn’t a chance that he could knock anyone over unless he does something stupid.

“On the count of three?” Harry asks. Louis nods.

“Three,” Harry grabs onto the wall behind him and indicates Louis to do the same. “Two,” He leans forward onto his front foot, still looking at Louis. “One.” He shouts, setting off immediately.

Louis pushes off the wall and dives straight into what he’s learnt, using his arms to boost his momentum and speeding across the ice. It isn’t long before he has caught up to Harry, overtaking him and reaching the exit first.

“I win!” He shouts, turning to see harry coming to a halt in front of him, their toes touching.

“You did.” Is all Harry says.

“Yeah, how does it feel? You lost to the Tommo! Could never beat me could you? Not in anything!” He can feel his walls crumbling, forgetting were they are and what year it is, pretending Harry is the same Harry as 6 years ago, pretending they’re kids.

Harry doesn’t reply, just smiles. It makes Louis feel nervous again; Harry is being careful with him, treating him like he’s made of glass. Louis decides to shut up.

“Let’s get you home then, yeah? I’ve got my car.”

 

“Tonight was fun.” Harry says, lies, to Louis as they pull up to Louis’ flat. The awkwardness is returning and Louis feels so bad that he ruined what was meant to be Harry’s night with friends.

“Yeah.” Louis replies, stupidly. He has no idea what to say.

They sit in silence for a few seconds, just looking at each other until Harry leans in closer. It makes Louis jump, eyes wide and mouth open.  

There is no possible way that Harry is going to kiss him, he hates him.

He doesn’t kiss Louis, he pulls him into a hug, letting out a ragged breath. Louis thinks it must be an attempt to not laugh as he plays with Louis’ emotions. It must be his way of pretending to enjoy holding Louis this close.

It’s Louis that pulls away first, not being able to bare the humiliation. Harry must be so annoyed with all of his friends for not turning up.

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?” Harry asks, sounding almost hopeful. Jesus, he’s a good actor.

“Erm, yeah, sure.” He replies before climbing out of the car and scrambling for his keys.

He gets inside rather quickly and shoots Zayn a text to let him know he’s back. It’s not long before he gets a reply.

**_How’d the date go?_ **

Louis shakes his head with a frown before typing out a reply.

**_It wasnt a date his friends were meant to b there._ **

Zayn takes a while to reply this time, which is unusual for him.

**_And they ALL mysteriously didn’t turn up?_ **

Louis can’t think of an excuse this time so just replies:

**_It wasnt a date_ **

The next time his phone buzzes, it isn’t Zayn.

 

**_Third date at my place. I want to cook you something nice. X_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully i wont leave it as long before the next chapter :/


	6. 'Safe'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get worse.

Harry’s ‘place’ isn’t anything like Louis was expecting. Not that Louis was really expecting a lot, he never does anymore, but he certainly wasn’t expecting it to be a house. Harry is far too young to own a house, unless it was left to him by his grandma, the posh one who Louis never met.

Harry seemed infatuated with her though, always showing Louis photos or talking about a fancy dinner she took him too. It would be a shame if she was dead. Louis doesn’t necessarily feel sad though, everyone dies at some point. It’s only a matter of time before the inevitable happens whether that is due to a ‘tragic’ event or just running out of lifespan. It’s going to happen eventually.

The text had come through 2 hours ago, giving him the address and a time to get there. Zayn dropped him off ten minutes earlier though because he had ‘places to be’. As much as Louis loves the new spark in Zayn, he can’t help but worry. It wasn’t long ago that Louis had done the same thing, pretended to be okay when things were at their worst (even though he was a lot younger) and with Zayn disappearing every single night now, Louis can’t help but suspect the worst.

He’s been stood outside for 20 minutes trying to work up the courage to knock. The light is on in the entry way so he can’t see through the glass without his own reflection staring back at him. He looks tired. He was up all night, again.

Harry hadn’t messaged him at all since that last text and that’s probably because Louis hadn’t replied. He really hoped that if he ignored it, it would go away, staring at it for hours thinking of all the possible scenarios that could occur if he did. There were a few he thought up that seemed good. They almost made him reply. Almost.

He’s made himself tea, burnt his hand on the kettle by accident. An honest mistake. That he repeated again and again; the shoot of pain that travelled through his hand being too good to leave as just once. His hand was pulsing, red, raw, but he didn’t care, it felt good to him. It looked almost beautiful. A punishment for the small flicker of hope he let himself think.

Hope is unneeded, pointless, when nothing ever changes.

The view from the window out is probably pretty clear, but if Harry has seen him he hasn’t bothered to come to the door. Maybe he understands? Probably not. It takes everything he can muster up to raise his hand and rap his knuckles into the wood.

It’s cold outside but Louis doesn’t have a jacket. The bite of the cold too good an opportunity to pass up.

It takes less than ten seconds for Harry to answer, 8 to be precise, with a huge smile on his face and a frilly apron around his waist.

He looks a bit messy, a bit of flour on his cheek, narrowly avoiding his scrapped back hair. It’s up in a messy bun again just on the top of his head with a thin red head band pushing back any stray hairs. It’s cute.

“Louis!” He sounds far too enthusiastic about this. “You came!” why does he sound so surprised? Does he really have that little faith in Louis? “Come in, come in! I’m just finishing the food.” He steps aside to let Louis into the hallway. The ceiling is really high which makes everything seem even bigger. “The living room is just through there.” It’s followed by an exaggerated hand motion to the furthest of five doors. Louis doesn’t even want to try and come up with what the rooms could possibly be. “Make yourself at home.” He calls over his shoulder before disappearing behind a different door, probably the kitchen.

The living room is quite large, probably the size of Louis’ entire flat if he’s honest, which leads him to confirm that this must have been left to him by his grandmother.

He walks over to the mantelpiece around the fireplace because he’s far too nosey. There are what look to be awards lined up in different shapes and sizes. A few are the same, there are two ones shaped like chefs hats with Harry’s name carved into the bottom followed by some company name that probably gave him it. Louis assumes they must be from some of the small cooking competitions Harry always wanted to go to.

He’s about to pick up another to try and figure out what they are for when something catches his eye.

There’s a small photo frame, wooden and a bit battered, sitting on the TV stand. It’s in pride of place and there is dust gathered over the glass and a small dent in the top corner and a scratch down the middle. But it’s not the frame that Louis is looking at. It’s the photo.

Louis remembers that day. It was only a few days before he left. He was in a shit mood and probably wasn’t that much fun to be around but Harry met up with him anyway, completely unaware of what was going on inside his head. It had been almost two months since the accident; everyone expected things to be at least bearable for him, even Harry.

He’d tried to act okay but Harry knew something was up, didn’t ask though, never asked. He just made it his mission to get Louis to smile, took him to the park where they found a bench hidden behind trees. A place to escape the world.

Harry had his camera with him, as always, and kept taking photos of the most random things. Trees, flowers, the sky, everything he could see. It was strange because Harry normally took photos of people, of Louis.

“You’re not smiling. Who wants to remember that?” is what he had said when Louis questioned it. And that’s what did it. Louis smiled, genuinely, for the first time that day and Harry leaned in, turned the camera on the two of them and took a photo.

The photo that is currently staring Louis straight in the face.

It’s blurred and neither of them looks particularly good, windswept and grinning like maniacs. Harry’s face squished was up against his to fit in the shot and his eyes are half closed but it’s honest. It’s them.

The memory that sticks out from that day isn’t the photo though. It was later, after the sun had gone down, when they were both hurled up in Harry’s bedroom with cups of tea and bad TV.

“I love you, you know that right.” Harry’s eyes were wide and genuine, as if he was actually saying something new.

“I love you too.” Louis had whispered, hoping Harry would catch on to the way his voice cracked on the truth. He didn’t.

“Louis! Dinners ready!” Harry shouts from the other room, it feels oddly domestic which gives Louis an uneasy feeling low in his gut. It’s been too long since anyone has called that to him.

He places the photo frame, which he doesn’t even remember picking up, and wipes at his dry eyes. It’s a poor attempt to wake himself up, from both the past and his sleepy haze.

Harry is out in the hallway, holding another door open with a smile. It leads to a dining room, about the same size as the living room, with a long eight person table. A table that size seems unnecessary but then again, Harry probably has a lot of friends. 

“I don’t know whether what you like has changed so I just made something safe.” Harry is doing the whole rambling thing again. He does it when he’s nervous, always has.

Two spaces are set at one end of the table, neatly with wine glasses and candles. IT looks very posh and very romantic and Louis feels like he might pass out. Harry has gone through so much effort just to try and please Louis. He must feel sorry for Louis not having many friends. Knows how difficult things with his family have been.

He takes the chair Harry pulls out for him and waits for the food to be retrieved

 

~

The word safe must mean something completely different if Harry’s dictionary because what Louis gets on his plate is rather extravagant. There are five white spoons in a line, each with something different on. It looks a bit like salmon but Louis can’t be sure.

“Smoked salmon with clementine,” Harry says point to the first one; He has sat down opposite Louis with his own identical plate. “Sesame seared salmon, salmon devilled eggs, soy baked salmon, and then grilled salmon.” Harry smiles up at Louis sheepishly, as if seeking approval. If he didn’t know any better he would have thought I genuine. When Louis doesn’t reply Harry adds. “You always liked salmon.”

“I thought you said safe.” Louis tries for teasing but it just comes out kind of gobsmacked. His jaw still hanging open as he stares at the food with awe.

“It’s just salmon.” Harry mutters but there is a blush high on his cheeks. Louis feels an odd sense of pride for putting it there. Before he lets himself feel too good about it though, he busies himself with the food.

It tastes amazing. Hardly believable that Harry cooked it himself. He always dreamed of going to culinary school. “Did you go to that school you wanted to go to?”

“I did,” Harry replies with a smile, and then went straight from there into my busin-job.” He coughs as if a bit of the food got stuck in his throat. “My job.”

Louis nods to himself, before finishing off the rest of his dinner. There didn’t seem to be a lot of food but it fills him up quite well. A steady silence fills the room.

It’s not quite awkward but the comfort of it is slowly slipping away. Louis panics.

“Why do you have a photo of us?” he blurts, almost smacking his hand across his mouth. What a ridiculous thing to ask. Harry is probably going to think he’s crazy or just plain creepy for looking at all of his stuff. What ig he’s embarrassed now? Didn’t want anyone to know that photo was there, was meaning to through it out. What if it’s only there so people can ask questions? So Harry can talk about that friend he used to have who was annoying as fuck and wouldn’t leave him alone.

“Because we were friends.” That sentence hits him like a kick straight in his gut. ‘Friends’ nothing more, never anything more. It’s also past tense, Louis knew he was in for a disaster, especially if Harry doesn’t even consider them friends anymore.

“We were.” Louis confirms anyway, trying not to let the words he said that night run circles round his brain, tease him, and remind him of how much it hurt to let all that go. How much it hurt to run away and never get that happy ending.

This is the real word though, happy endings don’t exist here. Never have, never will and most definitely not for Louis.

His thoughts are interrupted by a rather loud ‘meow’ coming from the around his feet, followed by something brushing his ankle. Looking down, he sees what can only be described as a giant ball of fur.

“Hello.” He says, he’s always loved animals. Since he was young, he wanted a cat or a dog or guinea pigs or a rabbit. Never ended up with more than a goldfish though. Too much havoc in the house already.

He gets of his chair so he can crouch down beside the cat, taking in just how large it is. Louis can’t tell whether it’s fur or fat but when he reaches out to stroke it, it’s hair only flattens slightly. It’s all black apart from its little white feet.

“This is Mittens.” Harry confirms, crouching down beside them both. “Do you want some food?” He asks the cat, Mittens, reaching up to grab what he left of the salmon and holding it in his palm for it to take.

“How much do you feed him?” Louis asks, this time his voice sounds successfully teasing.

“He always looks sad and food makes me happy so I thought it might make him happy too.” Harry mumbles, sounding like such a child.

“He’s a cat, Harry.” Louis says, actually smiling now. “They always look sad.” Harry, however, lets his face fall.

“Are you a cat?” It’s such a stupid question asked with such sincerity, making Louis give him a look of utter confusion.

“What do you mean?” He asks.

“Because,” He starts and then pauses, obviously considering what he should say next. “You always looks sad.”

That makes Louis freeze, smile gone and body rendered motionless; a state of shock. He doesn’t reply.

“It used to be a lot easier to make you smile.” Harry continues, a new found confidence in his voice.

Louis thinks for a moment before braving to look directly in Harry’s eyes. “A lot of things used to be easier.”

“You’ve changed, Lou.” Those words hit him like a bullet, ricocheting around his skull and bouncing out again, leaving a huge hole in the back of his head. Not visible to Harry but it can be felt, a burning pain radiating through him.

“Nothing changes.” It’s not that he even meant to say it out loud and he’s pretty sure it’s one of the few times he has. He repeats it day in and day out, inside his head like a mantra. A life motto. It’s the truth. The unfortunate, overwhelming truth.

“You have.” Harry insists. Louis doesn’t know what to say and that must be obvious in his face. The confusion must be evident. “You’ve changed. And I don’t just mean when you changed after the accident, because you did change then. That was understandable.

“I mean since you left. You have changed. There is no two ways about it. Something is wrong and different and I’m not sure I like it. It’s like im staring at the same boy I knew 7 years ago but I’m not. You’re not the same boy anymore, you look different and you sound different. You speak differently and you never smile. You’re not loud, you don’t joke nearly as much and I fucking miss your smile.”

“What do you want from me?” Louis finds himself asking, voice low and vulnerable. He needs to know what this is all about. He needs to understand why Harry cares.

“I want you to be happy again.” Harry says, reaching a hand out to grab Louis’ hand but Louis flinches and pulls away, cradling his arm into his chest.

“I’m not going to change.”  His voice is louder this time. More certain. “You should just stay away from me.” He wants the guilt to go away. He doesn’t want to be responsible for hurting Harry; he expects so much out of Louis already. “Give up and leave me alone.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Louis.” It sounds calm and comforting but he can sense the accusation hiding behind.

It’s all too much. Louis stands, wobbling slightly on his feet as he walks to the door. Not looking back once, but knowing Harry is following. He makes it out into the hall before Harry says anything else.

“Louis wait,” He does as he is told and stops just by the front door. Harry disappears into the living room and when he reappears he’s clutching something in his hand, “Here, take this.”

It’s the photo, staring up at Louis all over again. It brings back the same memories as before. The same dull ache of pain.

“It might help you realise who you were.” Harry has a sad look on his face and it’s all Louis’ fault. “Today might be the day to change again.”

Louis pulls the door open to leave, photo clutched to his chest, but just as he makes to step outside he turns. “Today is just a day, it will mean different things to different people but when the sun sets, nothing will have changed.”

And then he’s gone.


	7. Even a White Rose has a Black Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning, may be triggering to anyone who suffers from an eating disorder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took way too long for me to get together. I have loads of shit going on right now so this is the uploading speed yu should probably expect. I've got exams coming up and then i'll be moving house so...
> 
> I mean you never know, I could surprise you. No matter what though, this fic will get finished!! The entire plot is sorted I just need time to write it up.
> 
> Anyway..enjoy

Louis may be suffocating under that amount of blankets on him right now but no matter how hard he tries he just can’t seem to warm up. He’s shivering from head to toe and the bedding is seriously blocking the access to air to his face, though the feeling of suffocation might just be down to claustrophobia. He’s always had an issue with that. Shuffling slightly, he manages to push the covers down so his head peaks out and he can breathe normally again.

It’s not too much later that he decides a bath might warm him up a bit and he gets out of his blanket fort, taking all the blankets with him none the less. The tap takes a while to heat up but he just lets the hot tap run before turning to look in the mirror. There are deep purple sags under his eyes from restless nights and rubbing at his chin he decides it’s probably best if he has a shave; quite proud of how much motivation he has mustered up today, and its only 11am

Not being able find the shaving foam doesn’t even faze him as he wets his face and pulls out the razor. It’s a crappy disposable one that he has already used at some point in the past couple of weeks but there’s no rust forming on the metal so it should be fine. Tilting his head back, he brings it down on his neck first.

There’s a bit of a tug due to the lack of cream to protect him but it’s nothing he can’t handle, deciding to press a bit harder on his second stroke. He feels a slight nip but it doesnt hurt too much so he just carries on, repeating with the same pressure all over until his neck is completely free from hair.

Pulling the razor down to the sink to rinse it before continuing, he notices the water running off the blade isn’t clear, it’s red. He examines his neck to find tiny dots of blood scattered all over, at least 20 altogether. It washes away with a splash of water but the blood just appears again, cuts that size are always a hassle. He leaves them again for a bit to sort out his towel for the bath and check the water hasn’t overflowed before returning to finish the rest of his face.

The blood has trickled slightly from the tiny cuts and as he wipes them with his thumb they create pink streaks on his skin. A couple have dried up and they aren’t that noticeable if he looks straight forward but if the same thing happened on his chin they definitely would be.

He decides to be a bit more careful, splashing more water on more frequently and not letting the razor press too hard against his skin. When he gets the sides though he can’t resist a little test to see if it would happen again, nipping the skin just below his ear and waiting to watch yet another tiny dot of blood appear. It’s quite satisfying the way it looks, pretty in a way.

With minimal damage to his skin, he quickly rinses his face and the razor a final time and turns to face the bath.

It’s nearly full, would at least be up past Louis’ shoulders, how a bath should be. He turns the tap off; just now realising he only had hot water running into it this entire time. It should be fine once he’s ready to get in it though, surely?

The boiling water seems all too tempting though when he dips his fingers in, so he wastes no time in stripping off his clothes and stepping in.

Louis won’t lie, it does hurt having the water at that temperature but the ache is almost pleasant. Like it’s exposing him to the pain of reality or some dumb metaphor like that. Whatever the reasoning, he feels calm as the steam rises around him as his skin turns red.

 

~

There’s no clock in his bathroom and he didn’t take is phone with him. It’s difficult to keep track of time when your letting you mind drift form one place to another, no real purpose.

When Louis finally decides to bring himself back to reality, however, he’s knows he’s been in their long enough. His stomach is rumbling loudly, demanding to be fed and the sun is starting to set.

He decides that he really has been there too long when he notices the water is cold, his skin still red. Scolded from the heat like a sun burn. At least he’s not cold anymore, fingers and toes wrinkled beyond belief.

As he’s pulling himself out the water there’s a loud knock on the door. He suspects it’s probably Zayn, no one else would bother coming to visit. Not wanting to get questioned on his new look of a tomato, he makes sure not to turn any lights on, grabbing a towel and making his way to the door.

Luckily, it is Zayn or some poor soul would have been subjected to Louis in nothing but a towel.

“He feels terrible.” What a lovely greeting he gets. No ‘hello’ no ‘how are you’ but he guess that’s not how Zayn has ever gone about anything, never been one for manners. No matter how much he may be thinking into it, Louis probably does know the reason for the bitterness. Heartache really can effect a person.

“Who does?” Louis asks, attempting to look genuinely confused, it doesn’t work.

“Don’t go playing dumb, not only have you forced me to brave that lot alone for an entire week,” He knows that ‘that lot’ isn’t referring to all of them but Zayn still isn’t at a point where he is ready to talk about it openly, even though he’s been going through it for at least 5 years, “But now I’ve we’ve got Harry constantly questioning me and Niall about your whereabouts and whether you’re okay and if there’s anything he can do.” It has only been a week, Louis thinks, it can’t have been that bad. “I’ve dealt with that all so you can go cry in the corner of fucking self-pity.?

“Come off it, I know he doesn’t care,” he pauses to consider whether he should say what just popped into his head, “You just want to make me feel bad so I come back because you can’t handle being around someone that isn’t even yours, never will be.” It was uncalled for and is just going to create more pain than needed but Louis knows Zayn is lying, Harry doesn’t care he just feels sorry for Louis.

“Louis.” Zayn’s voice isn’t raised and he’s not trying to calm him down, he’s not even scolding him, his voice completely monotone, almost like Louis’ argument was invalid.

“No, you need to accept it Zayn. I mean you’re running off places now, suddenly keeping things secret and all I can hope for is that you have finally moved on. Who is it you’re sneaking around with? Because I hope you’ve gathered your thoughts enough to realise that there are other people out there with problems way bigger than your petty crush.” The rage is bubbling up inside him, he wants to punch something: like a wall, or Zayn.

When he replies, it’s loud. “What like your problems? Not being about to leave the house for a week because someone actually cares about you for once? Thats way more than what I’ve got.” The last bit isn’t shouted, Zayn’s voice lowering to its normal level. Louis takes a big breath.

“What about this person you’re seeing?” He steps back to finally let Zayn into the flat, realising they have been screaming down the entire building from the corridor. “And don’t lie; I know it’s a someone. And please tell me it’s not another Perrie,” He’s probably crossing a line again but he’s being far more cautious about it this time so as not to strike another nerve. “Because I know she was lovely but you didn’t care about her as much as you should have. The blonde hair and blue eyes really made me wonder whether it was just because-”

“This isn’t about me,” Zayn interrupts, “And who I may or may not be seeing in private. I came here about you and Harry.” There’s a long pause left for Louis to reply. He doesn’t. “He really is sorry for whatever it is he said or did, genuinely so. You need to at least talk to him.”

 

~

Louis doesn’t, another 4 days past and all that has developed is worry. If Harry is guilty then it’s Louis’ fault. He can’t talk to him only to have Harry resent him for overreacting. Either that or it’s just sympathy that Harry is feeling, mistaken for guilt because of the way Louis reacted. Either way, them talking won’t end well.

He got himself out of bed today though, went to the shops to get some more food and returned with enough to last him the week and nails bitten down to the bed. Walking round the store, everyone was staring at him. They could probably see how messed up he was, making jokes with their friends or silently judging him.

He’s not surprised to be completely honest; he looks a right state. He’s still sore in places from the bath earlier that week and he has red scratches up his legs from a restless sleep the night before.

Thoughts of Family and friends and Harry swimming around in his head, jumbling up and just becoming white noise caused him to grip onto himself for dear life, dig his nails in and ground himself with the pain.

“Louis!” Zayn let’s himself in this time, knowing that Louis won’t answer the door after their last meeting “We’re going out, get up.”

“What?” Louis startles as Zayn grabs both of his hands and drags him to his feet, He pulls him all the way to the bed room before Louis manages to tug his arms out of his grip.

“I want to go out and we always used to go out together so we’re going out.” Zayn somewhat explains as he swings open Louis’ wardrobe and pulls out a shirt, jeans and denim jacket. Louis knows what this is though, its Zayn not wanting them to fall out over a petty argument so trying to do things for old times’ sake.

The problem is, Louis hasn’t been out drinking in months. Hasn’t actually drunk that much alcohol in weeks, which is definitely an improvement. It’s probably not the best idea to go to a club and get wasted but in all honestly he could do with the distraction. Also, he and Zayn haven’t been acting like friends at all lately.

“Okay, but you’re doing my hair, mate.”

 

~

Louis feels good; he looks good, he’s in a good mood and he’s got his best friend by his side. Zayn did do his hair, the way he always does, styled up in a neat quiff. The look he went for isn’t like anything he’s worn for a while. He’s got his usual black skinny jeans  but they’re one of the nicer pairs he owns and He has a tight button up on that he found in the back of his closet from two years ago. It must have been buried there with his confidence because Louis gained piles of that in the last couple of hours.

Zayn is dressed the same as always, in fact he didn’t even get changed before they left, sticking with his loose white shirt and ripped black jeans only grabbing a black denim jacket from Louis’ flat before they walked out the door. It’s a loose fit on him compared to how it sits on Louis but Zayn’s always been skinnier anyway.

They step inside and immediately Zayn is off. It’s not that it really surprises Louis; this is how it always is with them. They come to a club to get a free hook up for the night that they don’t really feel guilty about ditching the next day. Louis just thought that maybe this time would be different, they hadn’t been out together in so long, as Zayn himself pointed out, and by the looks of things Zayn already had someone in his sights.

With a shrug, Louis heads towards the bar.

~

It’s noisy as hell in the club when the clock hits quarter past ten. To his right is a group of girls, they look to be on a hen night of sorts and it isn’t hard to spot the Bride To Be. She’s got a huge banner announcing it to the world across her chest and a sparkly pink tiara perched atop her hair. They all have way too much makeup on, giggling as the barman hands them all free shots with a wink. Not one of them is frowning, all seeming to worship the girl of the evening in all her fake tan glory.

On his left he sees the complete opposite, a bunch of men. They look rough, ink covering their arms, hair shaved in crazed fashion and not the type you’d see in a club like this. You’d expect to see them in an old pub down a back alley that’s also home to a tattoo parlour and a cheap liquor store, not a club with a dance floor and terrible remixes of modern songs blasting through the speakers surrounding the entire room. However, despite that, they seem to be having a good night, chatting amongst themselves, or well, shouting, trying to be heard above the sound.

It’s times like this, surrounded by people, when Louis feels most alone.

Louis feels alone most days; everyone he knows has someone else to turn too. Even Zayn at this point is glued to his phone, smiling at texts from whoever it is that’s on the other end. Now that Louis thinks about it, the only times he didn’t feel alone were when he was with Harry. Harry managed to make him feel like the only person who mattered, focused all his attention on him.

But Harry is the last think Louis needs on his mind right now, so he turns and orders two more shots, throwing them down his throat the second they are placed in front of him. The burn in his throat is oddly satisfying as he feels the liquid slide down to his stomach.

Then he puts on a brave face and heads out to the dance floor, he’s not letting his burst of confidence slip away just yet.

It doesn’t take long before he really gets into the swing of things; it’s amazing how much alcohol can change a person. He’s let his hips go, swinging them in time to the music pumping through his ears and through his veins.

Hands grab his waist tightly and he feels himself be pulled back into someone’s grip, someone’s chest, someone’s crotch. Louis startles for all of one second before he continues as he was before only this time there are two bodies moving together instead of just his own.

The man’s arms snake around his waist as his mouth kisses the side of Louis’ neck, pulling him impossibly closer.

“What’s a curvy little piece like you doing out all by yourself?”

The words are almost disgusting but in his state, Louis doesn’t care. He pushes his arse back so it rubs in just the right place and the guy lets out a low moan in his ear. Instead of answering, he flips himself around so they’re face to face.

He’s not bad looking, dirty blond hair spiked up in a similar fashion to Louis’ but a bit messier. He’s taller than Louis, but not by much and there aren’t any other features Louis can make out in this lighting. He doesn’t quite feel like the right fit for Louis but he’ll do.

“You’re just my type kitten.”

Kitten. Cats. Harry. Louis’ mind flicks between them in an instant before he snaps himself out of it and finally musters up a reply, hooking one foot behind the man’s ankle.

“And what’s your type?” Now that’s a question Louis really shouldn’t have asked. The man pulls him in even closer so his lips are pressed to the curve of Louis’ ear.

“I like them with a little bit more meat on their bones.” Louis feels his breath hitch but he doesn’t let the comment get to him, letting the guy continue, “What’s your name gorgeous?”

Being called gorgeous has no affect coming from his mouth but Louis fakes a giggle. Fakes everything but his name. “Louis.” What’s that saying again? Fake it ‘till you make it?

“Luca” He says as a reply even though he wasn’t asked, cockiness oozes out of him and it almost makes Louis grimace at the thought of what he’s about to do.

“What do you say we get out of here, Luca?” There is seduction dripping from his words and Luca only gets out a groan and a quick, eager nod. “Yours.” He states, he doesn’t want anyone seeing into his life unless they have to, his flat is almost a segment of his soul with how much his personality, or lack thereof, has spilt into it. Luca must take it as a question though, either that or he’s still nodding in reply to the first question. “Just let me use the bathroom and I’ll be all yours.” Louis hate using the bathroom  at other people’s flats, always has.

“Don’t be too long, want to see that tummy of yours without the clothes.” At least he remembers how his voice box works again, is all Louis can think.

~

Luckily the bathrooms are empty so Louis quickly grabs himself a stall to do his business.

After he’s done cleaning his hands, he goes to leave and meet Luca again, when a familiar face enters.

“Louis?” Louis freezes, not really knowing what to do.

“Liam! What are you doing here?” He goes for, He’s only really met Liam once at the bar and even then it was in a social situation. Louis’ not even sure he spoke to him once.

“I came with Niall, Lola and Sophia. But Niall disappeared off somewhere and the girls are dancing, was just gonna head home.” Louis vaguely remembers Liam mentioning a girlfriend and can only assume Sophia is her name. He seems to be wearing some form of designer jacket but Louis can’t make out the logo, maybe he’s the rich one who spoils Harry? He did say they worked together.

“Yeah I came with Zayn but we split up pretty quickly, was just going to head home myself.” He lies easily. “It was nice to see you though.” He doesn’t even wait for a reply, Luca is probably waiting for him out in the main club and he should probably get back as soon as.

“Hey Louis, wait!” Liam calls, grabbing his arm as he walks out the door. Louis looks at him expectantly. “Harry really is worried about you, please just answer his calls, yeah? He’ll end up banging down your door at this rate.” He says it with a light, obviously forced chuckle and then swiftly let’s go of Louis’ arm, turning to wash his hands.

Louis stays frozen on the spot for a few moments longer, quickly sobering up and feeling the need for more alcohol just to drown out his thoughts. Harry truly must be worried if Liam, someone Louis doesn’t even know, is trying to convince him of it.

Louis bypasses the dance floor and goes home, alone.

~

Stumbling to the kitchen, he pulls the blinds shut; the light making his brain thump inside his skull. He’s also really hungry, the joys of a hangover.

There’s some left over pizza is the fridge that he shoves straight into his mouth, grabbing himself a bowl of cereal as he balances it between his teeth.  It’s only 9 in the morning but Louis’ stomach is groaning at him for more food. Water too; water would be a good idea.

It takes all of 10 minutes, two bowls of cereal, a slice of pizza and about two gallons of water for Louis to remember the night before.

_Curvy_

_Bit more meat on their bones_

_Want to see that tummy_

And suddenly Louis feels sick to his core, Luca only liked him for what he looked like and he only liked what he looked like because apparently he’s fat.

He’s never thought about his weight too much but suddenly everything feels so heavy on him. His arms, his legs, weighing him down.  Suddenly there are tears rolling down is face as he pushes the rest of his bowl off the table.

It smashes on the floor with a crash that only makes his head hurt more. He can’t help but let out a sob as he looks down at himself only clad in his boxers and sees his tummy hanging slightly over the waist band. He’s never been muscly and never really been skinny, never even felt a need to be, but do other people genuinely think he’s fat? Are people disgusted by him?

He starts picking at a small scab at the top of his arm until it bleeds, crying softly to himself at the kitchen counter.

~

That’s how Zayn finds him, two hours later, tear tracks running down his cheeks and bits of cereal, milk and ceramic surrounding him on the floor.

Louis doesn’t know what compels him too, whether it’s the comments made the night before or just the hangover, but he runs to his friend as soon as he’s through the door and hugs him.

“Woah, Lou! What’s up mate?” Zayn asks, barely returning the hug.

“I need to lose weight Zayn.” The thought is running circles around him, it won’t go away. He needs lose weight, “Now.”

Zayn pulls back, looking weary. “Where has this come from?”

“I just pigged out and I don’t want to be fat, Okay?” Louis lets out another sob, He doesn’t understand why his weight means so much to him right now, maybe it’s misplaces worry or dread or guilt. “How do I do it?”

Zayn doesnt reply to him at all, Louis doesn suspect he will. He'll probably just stay with him whilst they wait out this melt down. 

Or he might just leave like he did last night, disappear and leave Louis on his own like everyone else does. Where did he even go last night? Did he pick up some blonde chick with sparkling blue eyes again, or did he go for the complete opposite? Or did he meet up with the person he's been messaging lately? maybe they're getting more serious but Zayn doesnt want Louis to know. 

Finally, he speaks.

“I have an idea.” He doesn’t sound at all confident, more wary. He pulls back from Louis’ embrace and looks him in the eyes. “You know this will pass right? This will just be you having one of your breakdowns that you’re taking out on yourself again.”

“I know, but I want it to stop.” Louis whispers, mostly to himself, waiting for Zayn to continue.

Zayn sighs but it doesnt feel pitiful, "I'm not sure it will help, my idea that is."

"What is it?" Louis presses. "Come on, anything. I'm a wreck." He doesnt just mean in this moment either. Louis knows he's a wreck, always has been and notheing can change that, but maybe something could help him now, with this one thing, maybe calm the thoughts in his mind.

“Why don’t you throw it back up? Just this once, yeah? Get rid of what you’ve just had and it might make you feel better. Then you can go to bed and wake up later feeling a bit better.” He rushes out and Louis’ eyes go wide in shock; did Zayn just suggest he make himself puke? Isn’t that what people with like eating disorders do?

If it’s only this one time though, maybe it’s not such a bad idea. The only question is, how?

“How do I do it?” he questions, walking further back into his flat so that Zayn isn’t just stood in his doorway anymore.

“Have lots of water ready, drink a tiny bit and then push your fingers to the back of your throat to set off your gag reflex.” He answers quickly, followed be a rushed, “Or something like that.” That has Louis raising an eyebrow.

“Zayn, do you-”

“I’ll grab you some water and leave you too it whilst I sort all this out, yeah?” He interrupts, jumping over the wreckage to the tap and pouring Louis some water.

If Zayn does this a lot that would explain his weight loss, Louis’ eyebrows knit in concern. Does this mean Zayn has an eating disorder?

Before he has chance to reply he is handed glass and ushered into the bathroom.

It's probably not the most sanitary place to be doing this so Louis washes his hands with the new soap he managed to buy the other day. Then he dropped to his knees in front of the toilet and takes a single gulp of the water.

Looking down, he can’t remember the last time he even threw up. Being sat hunched over a toilet is definitely not the most appealing thing to say the least.

Louis' got to say, he does feel nervous about this but he might as well do it now that he’s here, what’s the worst that could happen? He looks to his left and sees his reflection in the glass shower door. There are wet marks lining his cheeks and his hair is a mess, giant bags under his eyes.

Swallowing the saliva that has gathered in his mouth, he builds up the courage and starts. He sticks one finger down his throat until it grazes his tonsils, feels like  inserting all the bacteria from his bathroom into his mouth; the thought itself was enough to make him throw up. It was gross, but nothing happened. He’s determined though. Quickly, he rinses off and tries again with two fingers, tasting the soap that still lingers on them. Because of a strong gag reflex and because he'd never done this before, he had to pretend he was playing a game of 'reach the tonsils', they're much further away than he ever thought. A game like this helps to keep his mind off the reality of what he is doing.

Finally, he feels a burning in his chest, and chokes on his fingers one last time before quickly removing them as the food comes back up, scratching at his throat on its way. In again go his fingers to repeat the action until he gets that same burn and spiking pain and the last of that pizza splurges out into the toilet. He feels weak but has an even more overcoming feeling of strength.

He did it. He hates the feeling of throwing up and that feeling of strength didn’t change that, the burning in his throat however, now that seemed to be some form of accomplishment. He had tricked his body into punishing itself, feeling like he had cheated the world.

The pain outweighed his discomfort and the fouls taste in his mouth as he gulps down the water and clambers to his feet. Even the purest of liquid seems to hurt as it grazes the corroded walls of his throat.

His thoughts have faded as the pain takes over. Louis feels at peace for a moment until the sharpness fades.

Staring in the mirror, he saw a completely different person staring back, he looks even more tired than before but with blood shot eyes and water trailing down his chin.

It wasn’t the most comforting of experiences and Louis promises himself right there and then, that that is definitely never going to happen again. The burning feeling was satisfying, needed, but most certainly not worth that experience. There must be an easier way, he thinks quickly and forgets quickly, his tired mind only telling him to get too bed and sleep. 

 


	8. Home is where you Hang your Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting happy for a bit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the ridiculously long wait

The morning comes all too quickly, the sun blinding and curtains billowing in the wind from his open window. Rain has managed to break in and Louis can hear it pattering on the window sill as he wraps the blanket tighter around himself, willing sleep to consume him for even just a few minutes longer.

Unfortunately his body is now awake and the cars in the street outside hate him too much to shut up for even a moment.

The burning in his throat is still there but dulled. He doesn’t feel any better about himself either, self-hatred ever present.

There’s a clatter from the kitchen, startling Louis. Suspecting it must be Zayn; he pulls on some joggers and a baggy t-shirt and shuffles out of his room. His body feels heavy, weighed down with everything he has going on. Your bones carry what your heart can’t.

Zayn is stood over the stove in joggers and a baggy hoodie; he looks like he’s drowning in them, cheeks hollow and hands slender. It’s impossible to understand how Louis didn’t notice any of this sooner. Zayn looks like he’s wasting away.

He clears his throat to make himself known.

“Louis! Mornin’” Zayn’s voice is chipper than ever, happier than normal. Overcompensating.

“Hello?” Louis replies, taking a seat and letting his legs bounce up and down as he picks at his fingernails. “You seem,” He pauses as his voice breaks and he has to clear his throat, “Awfully cheerful.” A cough escapes his throat again and as if on cue, Zayn spins around from the kitchen and hands him a glass of water.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Zayn starts to dish out one plate of pancakes and slides that to Louis as well.

“Are you not having any?” Louis asks instead of answering Zayn’s question. He’s suddenly thinking back to all those times Zayn has made food for Louis but not himself. All the excuses Louis had heard.

“Nah not really a morning eater, you know this!” He takes the stool next to Louis and nods towards the plate encouraging Louis to start eating.

Louis just nods in agreement and takes a mouthful, making a small sound to reassure Zayn of its tastiness. He does make some good pancakes.

It takes about 8 minutes for Louis to finish even though there was very little on his plate, purely because he had to keep stopping to take sips of his water.

They haven’t spoken at all whilst Louis has been eating, Zayn pulling out his phone about 5 minutes ago to do god knows what. Louis sits another minute until he can’t take it anymore.

“Why?”

“Huh?” Zayn looks up from his phone, surprisingly with a smile on his face

“Why do you do it?” Louis feels his voice waver. Blood rushes in his ears and his pulse skyrockets as he awaits the response.

“Why do I do what?” He plays dumb, standing up and walking to the door. Louis follows, unsure how to word what he’s about to say.

“Ermm,” He feels hands claw at his throat, stopping words from coming out for a few moments, “Why do you make yourself puke?” Cringing at the lack of eloquence, he watches Zayn pick his jacket off the hook by the door.

“Gotta keep up appearances, don’t I?” Louis doesn’t think he will ever delete the way he just shrugs it off from his mind, as if he is just talking about the weather. Zayn turns to open the door.

“For who? For him?” Louis has no idea where the sudden burst of anger came from. He reaches out and holds the door shut. “He has a girlfriend Zayn; I don’t know what you’re trying to achieve! Don’t you want him to be happy?”

“He isn’t happy!” Zayn blurts out but immediately recoils, trying to tug at the door. Too weak to open it.

“And how on earth do you know that? Eh? He seems perfectly happy to me! You can’t keep doing this to yourse-”

“Because he told me.” His voice is almost too quiet for Louis to hear.

“What?” Louis lets his volume drop too.

“He told me he wasn’t happy. I’m off to meet him now, it’s working Louis.”

Louis shakes his head in disbelief, “Does he know you’re doing this? Does he know you’re practically killing yourself?” Zayn scoffs causing Louis to raise an eyebrow. “That is what you’re doing. People die from doing this.”

“Hardly! Only a few people have and they do it way more than I do. It seems to be working anyway so I won’t have to for much longer.”

“What if,”

“No Louis, no ‘what if’. I’m fine and you’re gonna keep this to yourself. At least you will if you value our friend ship at all.” That takes a stab at Louis’ heart, doesn’t Zayn understand that he is just trying to help him? But he can’t help but give in, lowering his hand from the door and letting Zayn leave.

 

~

It’s not long later that Louis finds himself sat in his living room with some shit show on the tv that he hasn’t really heard a single word of. He’s picking at a scab on his arm, determined to make it bleed. The pain not even bothering him; it’s nice to feel something at all.

A constant thought keeps pecking at his mind.

Harry.

He wonders if he will ever see him again or whether this time he really did scare him off. Well technically Harry scared Louis off, making him feel uncomfortable. Louis can’t help but think that maybe Harry did it on purpose. Noticed Louis was getting attached again so wanted to drive him away as soon as possible.

Their friendship used to be so easy, thoughtless. And that thought soon leads to another, that leaves Louis fidgeting in his seat. Soon after, his foot starts tapping and he is scratching at his thighs. He feels like an addict who is impatiently waiting for his next hit.

Trying to distract himself, he turns up the volume on the TV but he just can’t forget about what is lying in his draw only metre away.

It doesn’t take much time for Louis to give into temptation and head towards his bedroom.

The drawer is stiff but that doesn’t faze him as he yanks it open and dives in, digging around his socks frantically until he finally sees it. Handling it as if it were a priceless artefact, he pulls it out to look at it.

He still doesn’t understand why Harry kept this photo, of all the photos that they took together. This was just a normal day. It was very near Louis’ leaving but not extremely close, and they didn’t do a lot.

There are other photos that could have so much more meaning behind them: group photos from house parties with all of their friends, one of the beach photos from the joint Styles-Tomlinson holiday they went on when Louis was thirteen and Harry was eleven, or one of the many Christmas eves they spent together, playing out in the snow far too late. The list goes on.

Though looking back, those all contain memories Harry would probably rather forget.

There was a house party Louis had been invited to in Year 11, it was someone’s birthday but he can’t remember who’s, and there was a plus one allowed. He obviously asked Harry, knowing he would say yes; what Year 9 would refuse?

And like all high school parties, some people insisted on playing games. One of which was spin the bottle.

“Come onnnn. Lou, we gotta play!” Harry had tugged at his sleeve, dragging him along but Louis had dug his heels in. “Why do you have to ruin everything?” Harry mocked a pout.

“You only want to play because there are loads of hot girls in my year playing.”

“And? Darren is playing, maybe you could land on him.” Harry raised an eyebrow, causing louis to shake his head in disbelief.

“Just because Darren is gay it doesn’t automatically mean I’m going to be attracted to him.” Louis flat lined.

“You keep complaining about not having a boyfriend, Louis. You’re never gonna get one if you’re not attracted to anybody! Who you gonna fall for, straight guys?”

“Well-”

“You never know,” Harry continued, “One of the hot ones might be hiding a secret” He added a wink before forcing Louis into the circle of people sat on the floor.

A bottle has never looked more intimidating in all of Louis’ life.

“Right so everyone knows how this works right?” Some girl Louis should know the name off had decided she was in charge. “Just spin, whoever it lands on you have to kiss and then they have to spin. Got it?” There were murmured answers that she accepted and placed the bottle in the middle. “Who wants to start?”

“I think Louis should start.” Fucking Harry, always making things difficult. He was answered with a few disgruntled yeses so Louis leaned forward to spin.

In all honesty Louis didn’t even know who he would have wanted it to land on, maybe a girl so Harry couldn’t tease him about it afterward. One thing is for certain though, he did not want it to land on Harry.

On the first spin as well.

“Oh my god” Harry spoke Louis’ thoughts allowed. “Do we have to kiss then. I’m not gay.” Louis didn’t know whether he was trying to look good in front of everyone but he sounded rather disgusted.

“That’s the rule.”

“What if he doesn’t want to?”  Louis attempted to help Harry out, despite the tone he was using.

“Then you lose and you’ve got to leave.” Okay that girl was really fucking annoying thinking back to it.

“It’s fine I’ll do it, it’s just,” Harry looks over at Louis, “If you’re fine with it so am I” Little did he know how stupid that question was.

Little did Louis know how much he would regret agreeing.

It was only a tiny peck that lasted about a second, if that, leaving the circle grumbling in protest. Harry then proceeded to spin the bottle and kiss some girl called Katy. It was a peck that Louis felt on his lips for the rest of that year. That he can feel on his lips now.

The holiday they went on together was when Louis was 13. That was when he decided to come out to Harry.

They were out on the balcony of their room, they were allowed one all to their selves, with Gemma sharing with Anne and Lottie and Fizzy in with his Mum and Mark. Everyone so happy.

It was way too warm to move as they lay back in their chairs under the aircon and tried desperately not to sweat any more than they had to.

“I might audition for the school play this year.” Louis had said out of know where, immediately bracing for judgment. He knew what he wanted to say.

“Really? Didn’t think you were that type.” Harry didn’t even flinch when he said it, might as well have been talking about the weather.

“What type?” Louis questions, pulling himself a bit further up so he could see Harry’s face.

“The musical type, I dunno. Like I know you like singing, so do I, but isn’t it mostly girls who do it?”

“You really don’t know much about musicals do you? You’re gonna have to watch grease eventually you know!” Louis had been trying to get Harry to watch his favourite film for a good 3 years now, but little 8-year-old Harry got bored after the first 3 minutes. 11-year-old Harry might fare better. “There are male characters in almost every musical, who would play them if it’s all girls?” He can feel the conversation heading in the right direction.

“Gay people?” And there we go, Louis remembers thinking.

“What if,” His voice broke. Saying it aloud seemingly harder than expected. “What, er, what if I was.”

“What if you were what?” Harry was so innocent back then, didn’t know anything about anything. And the things he did know, Louis had taught him.

“Gay.”

“Huh?” In that moment Louis knew he was gonna have to be as obviously as he could have been.

“I’m gay.”

Louis has a tear in his eye thinking back to that memory, it was over 11 years ago but Harry was so supportive. He was shocked, of course, but he wanted to learn. The year following consisted of Harry apologising on numerous occasions for using the word gay as an insult, despite Louis telling him he didn’t mind, Harry asking many questions about who Louis liked and informing him every time he thought someone else was gay in school and Harry standing by Louis’ side as he came out to his parents and the rest of their friends.

The best friend anyone could ask for.

Then there is one Christmas memory that stands out and it just reminds Louis of how much he relied on Harry.

They were 6 and 8 years old and it was Christmas eve. It was really cold but they really wanted to go outside; there was 6 inches of snow for god’s sake, what child wouldn’t?

One snowman and a few snow angles later and the snowball fight had begun. Or should Louis say, a snowball war.

“You’re going down Harold!”

“I know you are, but what am I?” He stuck his tongue out for emphasis.

“You’re going so far down you’ll reach Australia!” Another snowball was thrown.

“What?”

“You’re gonna lose, that’s what!”

They were building walls of snow to protect themselves, giggling away every time one of them got hit, when louis had a great idea.

He filled a bucket up to the brim with snow made a run for it to the nearest tree. All he can say is he was lucky Harry was a terrible shot.

“You suck at this!” He shouted over his shoulder as he started climbing the tree, carrying the bucket by the hand in the crease of his shoulder. A snowball goes shooting past his head. “Missed me”

At 8 years old, Louis considered himself an excellent tree climber and it only took him a couple of minutes to reach the top of the tallest tree in their garden. Another snowball headed his way.

“Look I know you’re 2 years younger than me but you are so bad at throwing”

Then he got hit in the face.

“I GOT YOU!” Harry shouted, gathering up another snowball from the ground.

“That’s it! You’re going down!” He started throwing snowball after snowball down, hitting Harry nearly every time. However, it didn’t take him long to run out of snow.

He looked around to find the best route down but the branch below him looked a lot lower than on the way up. Deciding it might make things a bit, he drops the bucket to the ground and tried to slide his foot down but he couldn’t quite reach it.

“Are you stuck?” Harry asked, worried.

“Not completely.” Louis lied, making another attempt at trying to reach that branch. “Okay, yeah I’m stuck.”

“Stay there I’ll go get your mum!” Harry called, cupping his hands around his mouth for no reason; louis could hear him anyway.

“NO!” Louis pulled himself fully back up to sit on the top branch. “She’ll kill me. You’ll just have to help me down!” Looking back Louis know how stupid he was being. Harry was always the responsible one.

“If I come help you we’ll both be stuck, Idiot. I’m going to get help. Stay there”

Yeah Louis’ mum was a little bit angry but Mark got a ladder and helped a very distressed Louis down from the tree. If asked about it today he will still deny crying for joy when his feet finally touched the ground.

How on earth did he survive without Harry for 6 and a half months? Maybe he didn’t.

Suddenly a loud noise startles louis out of his thoughts, He rushes to put the photo back in his drawer and slams it shut.

The noise comes again, it’s someone at the door.

Louis is really not in mood for human interaction so he tries not to move, it’ll probably just be his neighbour or something, nothing important.

The knock comes again, louder.

Maybe it’s an angry neighbour, Louis did put his bins out two days early this week. Well, Zayn did.

“Louis, I know you’re in there. Answer the door.” Its Harry.

Louis frantically tries to sort his hair out in the mirror and gets a bubbly feeling in his chest as he runs to the door, momentarily forgetting that times have changed after getting swept up in memories. It’s incredible really, how a memory lasts forever but the remembering lasts a second. An entire segment of their lives brought back with the snap of their fingers and gone again just as quickly.

But standing in front of the door it’s too late to turn back, so he opens it.

“Louis,” Harry’s voice is soft yet surprised, relieved almost, “Can I, erm,  can I come in?”

Suddenly all words leave Louis’ mind. He hasn’t spoken to Harry since the date, hadn’t even considered the possibility he would, and he is terrified. “Yeah,” He trails off, mind feeling out of his control as he steps aside.

Having Harry step foot in his house feels unbearable and time seems to slow down as the tense silence only continues. An overwhelming sense of dread washes over the room as Louis’ leg starts to twitch and he picks at his nails.

They remain stood there for long enough for Louis to close his eyes and pray for the ground to swallow him up.

“I’m here to say I’m here to say I’m sorry,” He sounds kind of mad. “No, I’ve tried that already. I’m here to demand you forgive me.” Louis feels his eyes go wide as he desperately tries to stop his bottom lip from quivering. “I didn’t mean to upset you, and surely that’s obvious, but you’re still ignoring me,”

Louis tries to open is mouth but it’s like his throat has closed up, not letting any sound out.

“Why are you pushing me away? I finally found you again and you just pushed me away!”

“Found me?” Louis questions, not realising he’d even spoken out loud until he sees Harry attempting to answer him. “You didn’t even recognise me.” He continues before Harry can speak.

“Because, Louis, no matter what you say or how much you want to deny it, you have changed and I know you know it too!” His volume is rising slowly.

“Okay so maybe I have changed since I was 17, doesn’t everyone? I grew up and stopped acting like a fucking kid! What’s wrong with that?” Louis has no idea where this sudden power in his voice has come from but it’s too late to pull back.

Harry takes a deep breath and runs his hands over his face, he groans slightly and speaks again, calmly.

“What’s wrong is that you didn’t change in a good way.” Louis can feel his eyes filling up with tears but he refuses to let them fall. He feels like a fool.

“Then why the hell are you here? Why are you bothering with me at all? Do you feel sorry for me?” He can feel himself getting angrier and angrier. He doesn’t understand how Harry thinks it’s okay to come back into his life and mess it up. “Because you shouldn’t, this is just who I am now. I’m fine!”

“But you’re not fine. I can see you’re not and I can’t be the only one.” He’s the only one that feels the need to point it out. Zayn knows things are a bit shit for him but he understands when to leave him be and Niall has never known any different. “I should have helped you, I could see you weren’t fine after the crash but this is more than that. I mean I know you and Mark were so close but this, now, this is more than just prolonged grief. What happened to you?”

The mention of the car crash is enough to make Louis drop his guard for long enough that a single tear escapes, He quickly wipes it away. The memories of that night are too strong.

The phone call, the wait, looking after his sisters while his mum was at the hospital. Mark was in a coma for two weeks before being announced brain dead, all because of a stupid car, literally around the corner from their house, that didn’t have its lights on. But that guy survived, of course he did.

Everything was a reminder back then, they had to leave that god forsaken town just to try get away from the memories. It didn’t work.

“Life, life happened to me,” He says, calmer this time, “and now I’m stuck in this rut and not even you can get me out of it.” He doesn’t even know what he means by ‘not even you’ but in his mind Harry could always make him happy.

“You didn’t exactly give me a chance.” Harry sighs, almost sounding defeated.

“I didn’t see you for 7 years, I assumed you didn’t care.” Harry looks like he’s about to say something else but Louis doesn’t let him, he has something else he needs to say. “All these dates and crap, it’s so confusing, are you doing it out of obligation? Because last time I checked you were fucking straight, Harry. Do you know how it feels when you didn’t even try to contact me for all this time?” The look on Harry’s face suggest he just said something very wrong.

“I didn’t try to contact you?” Harry’s voice is booming, probably disturbing the neighbours. Louis realises he fucked up. “Are you kidding me?” This seems so out of character. Harry is the calmest person Louis has ever met. And yet, Louis can’t speak, unsure of what he could say or even why Harry is angry. “You never even said goodbye, you just left without a word and never spoke to me again. Everyone was asking me how you were and I made up answers because I didn’t actually know. You left me!”

“I couldn’t.” Louis replies, quietly, really hoping Harry doesn’t hear him “It would have hurt too much.”

“And it didn’t without the goodbye? Because that sure as hell hurt.” Harry takes another deep breath. And speaks again, “Why couldn’t you? And no more bullshit.”

Louis waits a moment and then his mind must get away from him. He feels like he is watching himself speak as he loses all control of what he is saying.

“I was in love with you.”

Everything freezes: Louis, Harry, time. The only sound Louis can hear is the clock ticking and he isn’t sure if it’s even real or his head counting the seconds.

There a good quiets and bad quiets and this one is definitely bad, so Louis does what he knows.

He runs.

He doesn’t run far, only to the bathroom, slamming the door shut and clicking the lock. He feels like he might throw up, for real this time, but he doesn’t.

The thing is about secrets is that there is always a reason for keeping them but it eats away at you the more you decide to hide it away. They always seem so obvious as well, even the slightest thing you do makes you think you’ve given it away. Maybe you even do it one purpose, hint at the secret, reveal a tiny part, just so you can relieve a bit of the burden, but nobody ever notices.

Some people speak in words and others in actions but they are always deaf and blind when it counts.

The only way to keep a secret is to first hide it from yourself. Louis had hidden the truth from himself for as long as possible, but now that he has said it he can’t decide if he is relieved or filled with dread.

He turns the tap on and splashes water in his face, wondering how the hell he got himself in this mess.

“Louis,” Harry’s voice is muffled but Louis can tell he can only be on the other side of the door. He tries to open the door, which is stupid because why wouldn’t Louis lock it? “Can you open the door please?”

“Just leave, Harry.”

“We need to talk.” Well that phrase never means anything good.

“You don’t need to explain.” Louis has never wanted to be left alone his much in his life. He starts to scratch at his arm.

“But I really do.”

“Don’t make this any more embarrassing than it is, okay?”

“This isn’t embarrassing Louis. What do you mean?” Louis takes a moment but he honestly doesn’t have an answer.

“I’m not opening the door.”

“Okay,” Harry suddenly agrees.

“Will you leave now?”

“Nope,” Harry says, popping the ‘p’ “I’ll wait.”

“Wait for what?” Louis questions, scratching a bit harder at his arm.

“You to let me in.”

“You’re gonna be stood there a long time.” He hears a bit of a ruckus from the other side of the the door before Harry replies

“I’ll sit then.” He must be sat on the floor just outside in the hall.

“I’m not letting you in.” Louis repeats, he’s not even sure why.

“You’ve said that already.” Harry says, matter of fact-ly

“Why are you still here?” He rubs his hands down his face and leans back against the door “Please,” He sounds so desperate but at this point he couldn’t care less, he’ already embarrassed himself to the point of no return. “Just go.”

“Just let me talk, okay?” Louis doesn’t reply this time so Harry must take I as a yes. “I had no idea you felt like that.” He says, as if it was new information.

“It was so obvious; how could you not tell?” Louis knows harry didn’t have a clue he just doesn’t understand how he could be so blind to it all.

“Because I was young and stupid.” So was Louis.

“And straight” Obviously Louis knows that Harry can’t have just changed sexuality since he was 15 but right now he’s just very confused.

“I thought I was yeah.” He takes a deep breath as if he’s about to say something important. Louis slides down the door until he is sat on the tiles, settling in for the ride he guesses. “In hindsight I should have realised earlier than 18. Having sex and kissing girls was all well and good but it didn’t make me _feel_ good; I just assumed that’s how it was. Until I hooked up with Darren at the leavers ball.

“That’s when I realised something, I hadn’t loved any of the people id dated, I hadn’t even liked them. I just thought they were pretty and because they were pretty I was meant to have a crush on them. I did fall in love that night though.” Okay so this is new.

“With Darren?” Louis can’t even picture Harry and Darren together never mind Harry falling in love with him, but then again, Louis is very biased.

“With you.”

“What?” Louis feels like he’s just been hit by a bus. None of this makes any sense. “But, I - I was long gone by then.”

“I know, and that made it hurt so much more.” This cannot be happening right now, Louis thinks. He can’t get his head around it. “But you were still so fresh in my mind, always in my mind actually. It had been nearly three years since you had gone but you were still all I could think about.

“I was in love with you too Louis, I just didn’t know I was until it was too late.” Louis feels water drip onto his arm, He hadn’t even realised he was crying. “That photo I gave you? You did tell me didn’t you, you tried to tell me that day?”

“I,” Louis’ cant eve process his thoughts never mind speak.

“I could tell something was different when you said it. We always used to say ‘I love you’ but there was something in your eye. I just put it down to you having a bad day; you had started having a lot of those, but it was because what you were saying was true and I was just too goddamn blind.”

Louis slowly stands up and turns to face the door. Hands trembling, he reaches for the lock and clicks it open, counts to 6, and opens the door.

Harry Jumps up from the floor and turns to face him, tear tracks on his cheeks too.

“You always used to make me laugh, had so much light behind your eyes, but it’s gone and I want to bring it back.”

“I can’t change.” Louis recites. Expecting Harry to argue, maybe he has accepted it.

“Do you still feel the same about me?”

“I’m getting there.” Louis answers without thinking, something he hasn’t done in a long time. He doesn’t even realise its true until he says it aloud. “It’s just difficult” with louis stuck in this rt that he can’t escape and not having anyone actually care about him, he leaves the second part unsaid.

“Can we try this? Us?” He gestures between them before stepping forward and taking one of Louis’ hands in his own. “We can take it slow, I just really care about you Louis.”

“Yes.” It’s the most certain thing he’s said in a while. “I’m a bit of a mess though, if you hadn’t already realised.” He jokes.

“You don’t have to explain anything right now,” Harry seems so genuine “We will get there.”

He pulls Louis in by his wrist and wraps his arms around his neck, hugging him close. Louis’ head is pressed against his chest so firmly he can hear his heartbeat.

As stupid as it may sound Louis can only think only think one thing. This feels like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would be a good ending tbh but there is soooooo much more to come
> 
> As they say...Home is where the story begins ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think!


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